It's not a crime to love what you cannot explain
by princess-of-the-worlds
Summary: Drabbles focusing on Klaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes. Posted from tumblr
1. It's not a crime to love what you cannot

**A follow-up that the crossover deserved. Follows TVD 7x14 and TO 3x14.**

* * *

Caroline is putting Josie and Elizabeth to bed (she's seems to be getting the hang of this better than Alaric now) when she feels it.

A sudden flare of scorching heat in her blood.

She glances down, gazing open-mouthed in pain as an orange glow passes below her skin, her veins appearing as it travels higher and higher.

It's not too unlike her desiccation recently.

Then Caroline feels the tug on her blood.

There is an emptiness spreading in her veins, her blood, like something that she didn't even realize she had is disappearing before her eyes.

It's not painful, though the glow in her veins stings like a bitch. The tug is more lonely, more like separation, as if Caroline is being abandoned.

 _By what, though?_

Within minutes, before she can let out a scream or a whimper or anything to alert Alaric that something's wrong, the glow passes. It's over.

The sensation of emptiness and separation fades, and Caroline blinks slowly, watching the orange glow wane before disappearing completely from her skin.

Caroline stumbles and sits against the couch in the nursery, the only room besides Alaric's that they've managed to furnish, clutching her left shoulder in disorientation.

 _What was that?_

She can't call Bonnie to ask; she and Damon are still finding ways to help Stefan.

Stefan may know. But she cannot endanger her boyfriend.

There's Klaus…

But…

It doesn't even appear that the glow had a lasting effect.

Caroline sits for hours as the sun goes down, fiddling with her purse, unsure whether to stay or drive out to search for one of Bonnie's witch contacts. Surely there's one in Texas?

Her phone rings loudly, and Caroline chastises herself for forgetting to turn the ringer off while the twins were sleeping. She ducks into the other room and answers it, glancing at the screen in confusion as she does. "Stefan?"

"Caroline!" The voice on the other side, miles away, is of relief and of hesitation. "Did you feel something a little earlier ago, a strange burning sensation for a brief moment that disappeared?" her boyfriend asks.

Caroline's eyes widen. "Yes," she hisses into the speaker. "What was that?" _If he felt it, then what was that?_

Stefan proceeds to tell her.

After a series of events where Klaus and his brother were taken and Stefan and a few more of Klaus' sires, along with Hayley ( _ugh, Caroline knows that she is the mother of Klaus' kid, but she has never forgiven the werewolf for betraying her and Tyler_ ), a powerful witch, just a few years younger than Caroline herself, had broken the sire line, the bond that linked Stefan, Damon, and her to Klaus.

"This means if Klaus dies, we're safe," he finishes telling her. "This is good." Stefan is definitely pleased but _is that pity in his voice, for Klaus?_

"I don't know," Caroline admits hurriedly. "I gotta go. Bye."

Stefan responds, "I love you."

"Yeah, I know." The words she wishes to say are staying stuck in her throat. Finally, she chokes out, "Love you. Stay safe."

Caroline had been unnerved by her phone call with Klaus.

The way the hybrid repeated her exact verbatim to her from that day in the woods; Caroline had shivered and, for some strange reason, felt intensely guilty.

This isn't the right time.

She is with Stefan, and he has his daughter and his family.

But how she felt drawn to him; he understood her better than anyone, strangely enough.

She had found herself blurting out the truths about the babies that she had suppressed since the day she had found out she was pregnant.

And, now, she finds herself unexpectedly and inexplicably dialing that old number.

"Klaus?" she inquires hesitantly as the call is connected.

"Caroline." The answering voice is rough and bedraggled, not at all like the playful yet inquisitive tone that had said _Hello, love_ to her yesterday.

"I heard…about what happened," Caroline begins cautiously.

There is a sharp intake of breath of the other side.

Caroline can imagine the hybrid's face at the current moment, closed-off, haunted look in the eyes.

Klaus continues speaking coldly. "I assume Stefan told you, love."

She is not discouraged by his tone. "Yes, he did," she admits.

"Of course, he did," Klaus says spitefully at the confirmation.

Caroline knows this tone. It's not spite towards Stefan but at something else. _Klaus had sounded like this after the hybrids betrayed him and forced him to kill them._

"I'm sorry," she tells him bluntly. "I don't know how it must feel, losing thousand of vampire linked to you for almost the entire ten centuries of your lifetime, but I can imagine it comes pretty close to being pregnant with children that are not yours, when some part of you betrays you."

Klaus doesn't respond for a moment.

Caroline finds herself holding her breath, waiting.

Finally…

"Did you feel it, sweetheart?" he asks, defeated.

She frowns despite herself. "I did."

"What did it feel like?"

"There was an awful stinging. It felt like something was tugging on my veins, calling them, but there was an emptiness spreading through my blood, like something was being ripped away." Caroline draws a single finger to her hair, twirling a lock nervously.

"Imagine that, sweetheart, but a thousand times worse: Your blood is on fire, and magic is flooding your body. Bonds are breaking continuously, some ancient and some brand-new. That feeling of something being ripped away, a thousand times repeated." Klaus sounds distressed, melancholic. "I felt them leave. I could feel each link break, Caroline. I saw each face as their bond broke. Lucien, my first sired. Marcel, my almost son. The Salvatore brothers. Your Bonnie's mother. You, sweetheart. I saw you."

"I'm sorry," Caroline repeats sincerely. She hesitates, "There's something else, isn't there? You're not afraid because you are unprotected now, are you? You're afraid because you don't believe that anyone will fight for you now that they will be safe if you are dead."

"Caroline," he sighs. "I once told you that we are the same. Weak and insecure humans, we both were. Paranoia and fear of being left alone, that's what drove me to repeatedly dagger my dear siblings. You have no family now, but you have your friends whom you love. How many times have you feared that they wouldn't aid you, give you strength in times of comfort?"

"That's why I turned my humanity off." Caroline breaths harshly. "Stefan didn't say what I needed to hear, and I turned it off."

"Yes, I heard about your little escapades." Klaus turns serious. "Never turn it off again," he orders. "Pain is what build you up, love. It will give you strength for your vampire years. Turning your humanity off will destroy your light."

She nods silently before realizing that Klaus cannot see her. "Yes," she chokes out.

A wail breaks out in the room next door; one of the twins has woken up.

Caroline curses under her breath as Klaus lets out a low chuckle.

"I remember that with Hope; she always woke up at the worst possible moments."

"Does it get better?" Caroline questions desperately. "I swear I could not have been so cranky as a newborn!"

"It does," Klaus confirms with amusement in his voice.

The crying increases as two voices rise in symphony.

"Ugh, there goes the other one. I gotta go," she groans.

"That's the second time one of them have interrupted us, love," he reminds her.

"Bye,"

"Goodbye, love."

As Caroline sets the phone on the table besides her, she contemplates for a moment.

Everything could have been different, if she hadn't told Klaus that afternoon in the woods that he didn't belong in her future. She had been lying.

 _She had seen him in her future, not immediately but eventually. She had not been ready three years ago, but if she had taken the leap…_

If he hadn't gone to New Orleans.

If they both hadn't had children.

If she hadn't fallen in love with Stefan.

A lot of _ifs._

Josie screams in hunger from the nursery, and Caroline startles to her feet.

"Coming," she calls to them, vamp-speeding to the kitchen and back.

There would be time for contemplating later.

But nothing denied the swelling of her heart that was affected by Klaus' voice but not Stefan's.


	2. What A Crazy Life We Have

**For Day One of Spring Klaroline AU Week, an all Human AU.**

 **Read and Review!**

* * *

"Klaus, truth or dare?"

"Dare," nine-year-old Klaus Mikaelson responded to his best friend Stefan Salvatore's question.

It was the first day of summer, and also, coincidentally, the day of the Mikaelsons' going-away party. The entire family was moving from Mystic Falls to London, except that the oldest sister Freya was moving to live with Esther's sister Dahlia in upstate New York.

The party had dwindled down, all the adults migrating to the formal sitting rooms with beers or glasses of whiskey in their hands.

Only the Mikaelson siblings and their closest friends remained, and they had formed a large group to play Truth and Dare, even Freya, Finn, and their friends joining in.

Stefan hummed thoughtfully, attempting to conjure the perfect dare for his beloved best friend, before Damon jumped in.

"I dare you to kiss," his cerulean eyes glinted deviously as he searched the circle of children for his unwilling female victim, "Caroline Forbes."

"What? No!" came the responding feminine cry of protest from Caroline herself.

Klaus was taken aback, though he knew that he shouldn't be. It was Damon who was very well informed about the strong rivalry that ran between Stefan's two best friends. Caroline and Klaus were competing with each other, in sports, in grades, in talent.

"I dare you to kiss Caroline Forbes," Damon repeated, lips forming into a nasty smirk that had Klaus wanting to punch the older Salvatore in the face. "Or are you too chicken?"

"I am not!" Klaus retorted loudly, though he glanced around discretely for Freya, Finn, or even Elijah to stop their childish game. Alas, when they were desperately needed, Klaus' older siblings were never around.

Observing the Mikaelson's hesitance, Damon crowed, "He really is too chicken to do it. Klaus Mikaelson is scared of kissing a girl!" His smirk only grew smugger.

"You don't have to do it, Nik!" Stefan intervened.

"Nah," Klaus responded with false bravado. "I'll do it." He propped himself on his knees and rose to his feet, wobbling over to where Caroline sat in the circle, between the younger set of Gilbert twins. He lifted a hand to her, watching as she took it and stood up to face him. "I'm sorry," he whispered to her, inaudible to the other children.

Her only response was: "Look at Damon. He doesn't think you can do it. Damon's a jerk; prove him wrong."

Damon indeed was jeering at Klaus and Caroline where they stood outside the circle. As they turned to glance at him, the Salvatore waved mockingly. The rest of the children sat with stilled breath.

Klaus leaned in quickly and brushed his lips against Caroline's.

They were soft, and she smelt like strawberries. Klaus felt Caroline's breathing stall as the ends of her golden curls tickled his neck.

He stepped back and returned to his spot in the circle.

Kol, Stefan, Katerina Gilbert, and Vicki Donovan all applauded for various different reasons. Damon, however, appeared bored, though he seemed the tiniest bit surprised as if he had not believed that Klaus would actually kiss Caroline.

Caroline smiled shyly at him for a moment before her lips turned up into a mischievous smirk that rivaled Damon's. "Damon, truth or dare?"

"Dare," the eldest Salvatore replied automatically.

"I dare you to," Caroline paused for a moment, pretending to be lost in thought, though she was merely stalling in anticipation. "I dare you to find Freya Mikaelson, tell her that you love her, and try to kiss her."

Damon's jaw dropped while Klaus smiled in approval. It seemed that Damon was not aware that Caroline and Klaus had known about his crush on the eldest Mikaelson sister.

It was brilliant, Klaus thought with a cruel thrill. Damon would be embarrassed so thoroughly that it would be a while before he tried any of his little pranks or tricks again, and thirteen-year-old Freya would scare the living daylights out of the Salvatore with her anger.

"No, no way!" Damon protested loudly. "Uh ah, I am not doing that!"

"Why?" Caroline questioned, her tone cold and her eyes cruel. "Or are you too chicken?" she taunted.

Damon bit back his words, visibly restraining himself from speaking or attacking. His chin trembled with anger. "No," he snarled, gritting his teeth.

"Uh huh?" Caroline rolled her eyes in his disbelief.

"Caroline," little Elena Gilbert attempted to call to her best friend. "Don't be mean to Damon."

Katerina placed a hand over her sister's mouth to prevent her from gaining Caroline's attention. "Stop."

Bonnie, Elena and Caroline's other best friend, removed Katerina's hand from Elena's mouth but still frowned at Elena. "Let her, 'Lena," she explained carefully to the quivering Gilbert. "Caroline is being a bit of a bully, but she's teaching Damon an important lesson. He needs to understand that he can't bully anyone."

Under the scrutinizing presence of Caroline and everyone else in the circle, Damon rose shakily to his feet. He glanced at Stefan for support who solemnly turned his head away as a sign of rejection. "Fine!" Damon wobbled away, out of the room, to search for Freya.

Klaus smiled. Damon got what he deserved.

Later that evening, as Klaus wandered downstairs, he found Lily Salvatore scolding Damon under the watchful eye of Giuseppe, Damon's father.

Sauntering past, Klaus heard phrases like "insolent boy" and "no respect for girls." He even caught a glimpse of tears in Damon's widened eyes.

Klaus smiled even more smugly.

It seems that he and Caroline finally came to a truce. It was a shame that it only happened the day that Klaus had to move away.

* * *

Caroline sighed as the heat hit her full blast, pink blossoming on her ivory skin from the steady downpour of scorching water.

As much as she hated being unable to room with her best friends Katerina, Elena, and Bonnie during their freshmen year at Whitmore, Caroline's dorm came with plenty of bonuses to rectify that misfortune.

First of all, Caroline's new roommates were awesome. Davina was an art major from New Orleans. Gia, a violinist from San Francisco, was majoring in Law and minoring in Music Theory.

Secondly, she was in a co-ed dorm building, meaning that there were attractive guys her own age on the same floor, including Stefan Salvatore and Tyler Lockwood from Mystic Falls. There was also a rumor of some foreign students moving into the dorm across the hall.

Finally, Housing had given Caroline the only single-occupancy room in the dorm, which came with its own attached bathroom while Davina and Gia shared one. Which meant that Caroline could enjoy taking showers for as long as she liked.

As she was currently doing.

After lathering her rather expensive shampoo into her blond locks and washing it off under the spray of the shower, she reached for her shaving foam and razor. Caroline patted some of the foam onto her hand, rubbing it thoroughly on her legs, before readying the blade on her calf.

"YOU USED TO CALL ME ON MY CELL PHONE! LATE NIGHT WHEN YOU NEED MY LOVE!"

At the familiar yet irritating tune of Drake's _Hotline Bling_ , Caroline jumped, caught by surprise. The blade of her razor nicked her calf until there was a copper tang in the steamy air and Caroline could feel a steady stream of blood down her leg.

Cursing, half in pain, half in bewilderment, Caroline cut the shower's stream off, turning the knob with fervor, and crouched down to examine her leg.

There was a deep and long cut, similar to one made by a cat's claw, and the blood continued oozing out of the wound with no halt. Caroline hissed as her fingers made contact with the cut.

"I KNOW WHEN THAT HOTLING BLING, THAT CAN ONLY MEAN ONE THING!"

Once again, she was caught unaware by the sudden noise, and she slipped, her fingers sliding on her calf and blood smearing. Tumbling into the plastic side of the tub, Caroline bumped her head hard.

She sat there, on the edge of the tub, completely naked, wet, and with blood running down her leg and covering her arm.

Caroline had had enough.

As the music continued blaring, she tugged her towel from the rack next to her head and rose to her feet while wrapping the towel securely around her, grimacing when the white material soaked up the scarlet blood.

She gritted her teeth, flung the bathroom door open, and marched to the dorm door. Throwing that door open, Caroline stormed across the hallway and began pounding on the door of the other dorm like a woman on a warpath, keeping a loose grip on her towel with a single hand.

When the door was opened, Caroline almost dropped her towel in surprise.

"And who might you be, darling?" a voice with a lilting accent that Caroline could not place drawled. An incredibly attractive man stood in the doorway of the dorm. With styled dark brown hair, dark eyes, a strong jawline, and prominent eyebrows, he seemed just a bit younger than Caroline but faintly familiar. She would have been introducing herself enthusiastically by now if it were not for the fact that he was ogling her body unashamedly.

Caroline scowled, crossing her arms over her chest while still clutching at her towel. "Hey gawker, my eyes are up here! Besides, I am only here to request you turn your music down. Some of us fellow college freshmen appreciate a little peace and quiet."

"Apologies, darling," the man replied. "Just needed a little pep while moving in."

She frowned profusely. "Keep it down."

"What are you doing, Kol? Who are you talking to?" another accented voice drifted from behind the man. This one was definitely British.

Kol? Caroline bit her lip in confusion while trying to place the name to a face she recalled from her childhood, her face lighting up as she realized who Kol in fact was.

"No one, Nik," Kol called over his shoulder.

The other man finally appeared in the doorway, shoving Kol to the side.

Sandy blond curls, stormy eyes, raspberry lips pulled into a perpetual smirk, and narrow cheekbones. Lean, lightly muscled body.

"Klaus?" Caroline gasped in shock.

This time she really did drop her towel.

Klaus Mikaelson frowned when the girl at their door recognized him. He had never recalled seeing her in his life.

Which was a shame. She was actually very beautiful. Damp golden hair that cascaded down her back, drying into soft natural curls at the moment. Iridescent blue-green eyes. Ivory, flawless skin. Delicate features. A toned and athletic body that Klaus attributed to (most likely) cheerleading. Legs that went on for miles.

Then the front of her towel dropped, and Klaus received an eyeful before he quickly turned away. But it was enough for the image of creamy curves to manifest in his mind. There was a stirring in his loins.

Klaus shook his mind clear and willed his body back under control.

"As much as Kol here would like a free show, we are bit busy, love. So if you could come back at a later time," he told the blonde who, by now, was clutching her towel tightly around her.

"I would not!" Kol protested loudly besides him, appearing affronted.

"Shush, brother."

The girl laughed mockingly. "You really don't remember me, do you?"

"No," Klaus replied, perplexed. "No, I truly do not, love." He ran an elegant hand through his hair, raking his curls back.

She sighed heavily. "I have a name, and it is not a term of endearment! I should have expected this. Why would you remember me, Klaus? Even you, Kol!" The girl threw her hands up in the air in frustration, still keeping her grip on her towel secured with her upper arms.

"I am sorry!" Klaus nearly snarled in irritation. "I clearly do not remember you. Please enlighten us!" The sarcasm dripped off his tone almost nastily.

"You kissed me in fourth grade!" the blonde blurted out uncontrollably. "You kissed me in fourth grade and then moved away." Her lips curved into a hesitant grin.

Kol responded faster than Klaus did.

"Caroline? Little Caroline Forbes?" he asked eagerly.

"Moron, I'm a year older than you." She tugged at the roots of her drying hair. "But yeah." Caroline paused in confusion. "Aren't you guys supposed to be in England? What are you doing here?"

"We…moved back…" Klaus replied slowly, still befuddled and attempting to reconcile the image of this stunning blonde with the angelic Caroline he remembered from his childhood. "We're all here. For college." He sighed, focusing on Caroline's face. "You should join us for lunch later today. Rebekah will be there. At the dining hall."

"Yeah!" Caroline chirped happily. "I'll see you then. Keep the music down!" She retreated to her dorm.

"I'll see you then," he repeated quietly behind her.

* * *

Freshly changed, Caroline assessed her outfit in her full-length mirror. She frowned in displeasure.

"Davina!" she called, her voice echoing in the hallway.

A moment later, the petite brunette popped her head through Caroline's door. She was slender with bold blue eyes and limited makeup and dressed in a blue peasant top and white cutoff shorts. "Yes, Caroline?" Davina inquired.

"I need your help," she told the brunette who drifted further into the room. "Is this outfit fine for lunch?"

"With who?" Davina took in Caroline's ponytail and flower-patterned green sundress.

"Old friends. A pair of brothers I knew from my childhood. They moved to European after fourth grade, and now they are our across-the-hall neighbors." Caroline busied herself with rifling through her closet. "Oh, and their sister."

"European, you say." Davina turned to Caroline with a gleeful expression. "Hot?"

"Fuck yeah." Caroline snorted. "And brothers. Actually," she brightened up. "Why don't you come with me? I think one of them is also majoring in art."

"You don't say," Davina drawled, her Southern accent coming through. She took another look at Caroline and winced. "I mean: your outfit would be fine for a casual lunch if they were normal friends. But you say that you haven't seen them in how many?"

"Ten years," Caroline interjected.

"In ten years. Plus, they're incredibly hot as you've said." Davina joined Caroline in rifling through her closet. "Here," she tossed several articles of clothing at Caroline. "Go put these on!"

Emerging from the bathroom, Caroline modeled her outfit for Davina who whistled loudly. "You look good. It's elegant but still very causal."

Caroline examined herself in her mirror. Davina was right. She did look good.

A black A-line dress with a rose print pattern. A light denim overcoat thrown on top.

She cocked her head, considering what to do with her hair.

"Braid your hair," Davina replied to Caroline's unanswered question. "Oh, and wear your beige Chelsea boots, light makeup."

"Make sure that you change too," Caroline called as Davina left the room. "Look nice."

When Davina returned in a nice navy blouse, jeans, and combat boots, Caroline nearly snorted. "It's like you took every fashion rule you applied to me and reversed it." She smiled at Davina.

"Whatever." Davina waved her off. "They don't know me."

* * *

"The dining hall? Really!" Davina snorted. "I thought we were going somewhere nice."

Caroline shrugged, unbothered. "It was a short notice." She spotted Klaus and Kol at a nearby table, accompanied by a statuesque blonde who must have been Rebekah.

"Caroline!" There was a loud squeal, and Caroline found herself wrapped up in an armful of more blonde.

"Rebekah!" Caroline responded slightly less eagerly, grimacing as she patted the other blonde's back in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

"That's enough, Bekah," Klaus said from behind Caroline, having followed Kol and Rebekah up to Caroline.

Caroline shuddered when she realized how close he was behind her. She could feel Klaus' breath fanning the back of her neck.

Rebekah released Caroline and beamed, her crimson-painted lips pulling back to reveal a set of perfectly-shaped teeth.

In that moment, Caroline realized how gorgeous Rebekah had truly become (it seemed that good genes did in fact run in the family). Rebekah was tall, slender, and curvy, with wavy blond hair, porcelain skin, and high cheekbones. And an accent.

Caroline swore, this entire family was too incredibly attractive. She didn't not want to see how Freya who had already been pretty as a thirteen-year-old, Finn, and even toddler Henrik had aged.

"How are you, Bekah?" Caroline asked, her ribs aching hollowly from the strength of Rebekah's embrace.

"I'm fine! How have you been in the decade since we last saw you?" the taller blond questioned.

Caroline replied nonchalantly, "I've been fine; nothing remarkable."

"Great!" Rebekah turned to Davina, noticing her for the first time. Rebekah's exuberant expression died down a little, her eyes hardening slightly and her lips settling in a miniscule frown. "And who might you be?" she demanded frostily, her eyes roving over Davina dismissively.

Not to be intimidated, Davina stepped forward, offering her hand to Rebekah in an authoritative fashion. "Davina Claire-Gerard, New Orleans," Davina introduced herself, heavily emphasizing her accent. "I believe that that is one of my brother's designs." She gestured to the dress Rebekah was wearing, a black halter trapeze with small white fleur-de-lises. "From his _Always and Forever_ collection."

Caroline's jaw dropped. She nudged Davina in the stomach and hissed, "You never told me that. That's awesome!"

Rebekah's lips pursed as she took Davina's offered hand and shook it in a firm grip. "So your brother is Marcel Gerard. He's a close friend of my older brother Elijah. Marcel is always mentioning you. Never expected to meet you at Whitmore of all places." Her expression softened.

Davina shrugged in reply to Caroline's astonishment. "We're both adopted." To Rebekah, she nodded in acknowledgement. "Marcel is also always mentioning you. Seems you left quite an impression on him. It's great to finally place a face to a name."

"This is wonderful," Kol broke in. "You're all nice and acquainted. What about Nik and I?" He grasped Davina's hand and brushed his lips against the back of her hand, giving Davina a crooked yet charming smirk. "Kol Mikaelson, darling. Pleased to meet you."

Davina's face remained passive; she was not impressed. "My name is Davina, not darling. Still deciding if it is actually a pleasure to meet you." Ignoring Kol, she turned to Rebekah and initiated a conversation about Marcel's designs.

Klaus snorted, and Caroline's attention snapped to him. She'd almost forgotten that he was there; he'd been so silent.

"Klaus Mikaelson." He interrupted Davina and Rebekah's conversation by holding a hand out to Davina.

She shook his hand quickly. "Davina Claire. Marcel speaks very highly of your art."

Klaus smirked lightly. "Marcel speaks of yours time to time." Proceeding towards the table, he sat down, making room for Rebekah and Davina to sit beside him.

Taking a seat across from Klaus and next to Kol, Caroline asked, "What are the three of you doing here of all places?"

"Mikael graduated from Whitmore. He wanted all his children to do the same. Elijah is completing his junior year at Whitmore this year. It's my freshman year. Kol and Rebekah received early admission to Whitmore; they were in an accelerated program in their boarding school in Australia," Klaus explained in between bite of food.

"Boarding school in Australia," Caroline scoffed playfully. "Of course. What about Freya, Finn, and Henrik?"

"Freya is an interior designer with her own company; she still lives up in New York with her boyfriend Lucien. Finn is a psychologist in Chicago and is practically married to his girlfriend Sage. Henrik is a sophomore in high school back in London; he lives with Esther and Mikael."

"How's the rest of the Mystic Falls gang?" Kol interrupted abruptly.

Caroline laughed, a lovely sound that echoed around the dining hall before getting lost in the chatter of the other students. "If that's your way of asking about Bonnie, then you shall be disappointed to know," she teased. It seemed that Kol's childhood crush on the mocha-skinned beauty had not disappeared.

"Know what?" he prompted Caroline, his eyes narrowing.

"Bonnie is here at Whitmore," Caroline watched Kol's face light up, "Dating her boyfriend of four years. Enzo St. John, he moved here to Mystic Falls from England when we were in eighth grade."

Kol appeared disinterested now. "Well, I suppose that there are plenty of other beauties here at Whitmore." He took a meaningful glance at Davina who was still chatting animatedly with Rebekah. "What became of the Gilberts and Salvatores?"

"Stefan, Elena, and Katerina are here too, though Katerina goes by Katherine now. Something about modernizing her name for more attention from guys." Caroline shrugged, indicating that she was unaware of the reasons for the name change. "Stefan and Elena are dating. Kat's single. Matt's actually going to a community college in Richmond; he plans to go to Quantico. Follow in my mom's footsteps. Tyler lives on the same floor as us, actually. Jeremy's finishing his senior year back in Mystic Falls, and Damon, thankfully, is far away in Italy."

"What's Damon doing in Italy?" Klaus asked confusedly.

"He dropped out of Columbia, didn't want to be a lawyer like Daddy. Now, he manages some vineyard that the Salvatores own." Caroline forked some pasta into her mouth, swallowing quickly. She scraped her plate clean.

Klaus took a swig of water from his glass before standing up and carrying his tray to the disposal bin.

Caroline followed Klaus, disposing of her own tray in the bin. As she turned to return to her seat, Klaus locked a hand around her wrist, squeezing with a gentle pressure, and pulled her into the corner, out of sight of the table.

They collided, Caroline letting out a "Oomph!" as she found herself smooshed against Klaus, head reaching his collarbone.

"Release me, Klaus!" Caroline demanded angrily. "Let me go." When he did not move to comply to her demands, she raised her heel, prepared to stomp on his toe.

Klaus successfully dodged her foot, instead shifting closer. He leaned forward, almost as if to kiss Caroline.

Caroline's eyes zeroed in on his lips, eyeing his plump lower lips and wishing to take it between her own. Immediately, she reprimanded herself, clearing her head. "What are you doing? Klaus!" she squawked in alarm when his face was only centimeters from her own. Out of her peripheral vision, she spotted his hand moving.

"Relax," Klaus laughed, his pronunciation of the word stretching the syllables.

She watched as his hand tugged her hair away from something behind her.

"Your hair was in someone's soup."

Indeed, the tips of Caroline's braid was soaked in some pungent liquid. "Eww." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I'm definitely washing my hair again," she stated as she wiped the gunk off her hair.

"What did you think I was going to do?" Klaus asked. He quirked an eyebrow challengingly, gazing questioningly at Caroline.

Coerced by his bold stare, she felt pressured to blurt out, "If you must know, I thought you were going to kiss me."

"Kiss you?" he repeated amusedly. "Because we kissed ten years ago under the pretense of a childish game."

"Yes," Caroline replied, suddenly defensive. "Yes, because of that."

"Then why not?" Klaus leaned down and claimed Caroline's mouth. His lips were soft and supple as he nipped Caroline's lower lip gently.

She sighed softly in surprise, hand fisting in his soft curls. Her head tilted to the side, allowing Klaus to reclaim her lips in a slightly more bruising kiss.

He pulled Caroline into him even more tightly.

They kissed for several moments passionately, Klaus releasing small moans as Caroline tugged on his hair in pleasure.

But, it was Klaus bringing his palm to clutch Caroline's cheek tenderly, rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone endearingly, that broke Caroline out of her spell.

Shocked, she tore her lips from Klaus and stepped out of his embrace, immediately whimpering at the loss of pleasure and heat. "You, you can't do that!" she told Klaus hurriedly, panicked.

"Why?" he asked, his eyes steeling as he watched her. "Why can't I?"

Caroline was incredibly flustered now, red flush causing skin on her neck to appear blotchy. Her lips were swollen, her braid coming undone, as heat rose to her cheeks. "Because, it's not right. I mean, we've haven't seen each other in ten-ten years. And, and, I just met you again, and ugh!" she began to stutter.

"I completely understand," Klaus replied smoothly.

"You do?" she asked hopefully in a small voice.

"Yes." His lips curved up into his tell-tale smirk. "I want to have you as mine when you choose to be mine, not under a misunderstanding."

Caroline sighed. "I'm not a piece of meat." She whacked him on the back of the head playfully. "Besides, I'm too smart to be seduced by you." Her head jutted out as she took on a self-righteous pose.

He smiled genuinely. "That's why I like you."

"Good." Caroline nodded.

For a few moments, there was silence before Caroline found herself gazing longingly at his lips. She tore her gaze away ashamedly.

"So…" she said awkwardly.

"Huh?" Klaus asked, startled, having been lost in thought. His face took on a decisive expression. "Come with me, love. I wish to show you something." He latched back on her wrist and tugged her out of the corner and quickly out of the dining hall.

As they passed their table, Caroline saw Davina making a suggestive face at her, quirking her eyebrows knowingly. Caroline rolled her own eyes in response and followed Klaus out.

They walked along each other, tracing the cobblestone path across the campus until Caroline had no idea where they were heading.

"Where are we going?" she questioned with a puzzled expression.

"Somewhere I want to show you," Klaus repeated vaguely.

Minutes later, Caroline realized that they were entering a copse of trees. "What is this place?"

No reply.

They turned a corner, and Caroline gasped in surprise.

She found herself standing in a small clearing where trees made an enclosure. A small, bubbling brook ran across the further edge of the clearing. An elegant stone bench sat in one corner where sunlight streamed brightly from under the shadowed trees.

"This is gorgeous," she stated appreciatively. "How did you find it?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Came to the States to help 'lijah move in two years ago. I was wandering the campus, just stumbled into it. I've painted it once or twice."

"That's right." Caroline smirked. "You were always a little artist."

"And you," Klaus said. "Were always a little teacher's pet."

"Huh!" She snorted, her eyebrows raising in disbelief. "I seem to remember little Klaus Mikaelson cozying up to Ms. Goldstein, our third-grade teacher. She was always too distracted by your adorable little dimples."

"You thought I was adorable," he noted smugly.

She blushed, her cheeks flushing pink. "Please, no matter how adorable you may have been when we were young, it did not hide the fact that you were still a nasty, crayon-thieving bastard." Her lips pursued into a small frown.

Klaus chuckled. "I suppose I was." He watched as Caroline smiled knowingly, believing herself to be victorious. Then he prepared himself to knock her down a few notches. "I may have stolen a crayon or two when we drew our art projects, but I seem to remember a pipsqueak Caroline who spilled apple juice on my math assignment in first grade to ensure that you would have the highest grade in the class."

She frowned, crossing her arms defensively but drawing Klaus' attention to her cleavage. "That was once!" Caroline cried in frustration.

He tore his gaze away mournfully to avoid being caught. "That was three times," he corrected her dryly.

Stamping her foot, Caroline clenched her fists. "Fine. I guess I was a horrid little bitch as a nine-year-old." She glanced away from Klaus, acting falsely offended.

"Don't forget bossy." Klaus smiled innocently, his boyish grin causing Caroline's heart to flutter controllably.

She tried to deny how his grin affected her. "Fuck you!" she hissed mock-seriously, attempting to contain herself.

It didn't work.

A large grin pulled at her lips as she struggled to remain stoic. Finally, she gave in and beamed, breaking into loud, inelegant snorts and giggles. "It's not funny!" she attempted to declare.

"It is!" Klaus insisted, his chuckles mingling with Caroline's.

She agreed despite herself. "A little."

Straightening up, they perched on the bench.

"Tell me about yourself," he demanded playfully, clutching her hand in his larger one.

She tried not to notice how he stroked her palm gently with his thumb. "Why?"

"I wanna talk about you. Your hopes, your dreams. Everything you want in life." Fixing her with an inquisitive stare that made her feel incredibly exposed, he continued, "Come one, get to know me. I dare you." He cocked his head to the side, knowing that it was in Caroline's nature to be unable to resist a challenge.

"Well, I've never really been anywhere," she admitted sheepishly.

Klaus grinned suddenly. "I'll take you wherever you want." At Caroline's startled expression, he chuckled. "Rome, Paris, Tokyo," he prompted. "Anywhere."

"Ok, I don't know if this is some new way of flirting, but it sucks. Klaus," she groaned. "It doesn't work that way."

"What?" he questioned innocently, stormy eyes bright and mischievous.

"You don't just offer to take a girl you've just met around the world. It just," she paused briefly, struggling on how to elaborate.

"Doesn't work that way," he completed her sentence.

"No, Klaus, it's not that." Caroline's azure eyes flashed defiantly. "I don't sleep with men I haven't met in ten years. I am not that kind of person."

"I respect your wishes, love. I will back off. Now, back to you. Tell me something about yourself that I don't know."

"Well," Caroline drawled hesitantly, confused by the sudden change in topic. "I happened to be Miss Mystic Falls 2013." She beamed, appearing quite pleased with herself.

"I know."

Her jaw dropped. "What!" she exclaimed as she waited for Klaus to elaborate.

"It's a grapevine thing. Some gossip between Elijah and some old friends of his from Mystic Falls."

"Oh. So…" Caroline trailed off. "How have you been?"

"Fine. Nothing big honestly." Klaus shifted closer to her on the bench.

"Is everything okay," she asked quietly. "With you and Mikael?" She recalled the years of animosity between Klaus and his step-father when they had been growing up.

He stiffened immediately. Clearly, he hadn't expected Caroline to broach this topic. "He punched a hole throwing a painting that I had submitted to a scholarship fund. Needless to say, I lost the scholarship." He fixated his attention on a hole in a tree above Caroline's head.

Caroline's eyebrows raised high, almost disappearing into her hairline. "Why?" she demanded determinedly.

"He found out that I wasn't his biological son."

She dropped her phone from where she had been reaching for it from her pocket. Ignoring it, she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around his stiff body. "I'm so sorry, Klaus. When?"

Slowly embracing her back, Klaus muttered into her neck gruffly, "When I was twelve." He patted her back awkwardly. "Seem we both have daddy issues. That was another rumor from Elijah, love."

Pulling back and punching him lightly on the arm, she remarked, "Hey! I visit Bill and his boyfriend Steven once a summer."

"I suppose," Klaus shrugged.

Caroline's phone chimed loudly, and she knelt down to pick it up from the grass. "It's been two hours already!" she exclaimed. "Seems Davina and your siblings headed back to our dorm an hour ago. She wanted to know where we were. I better go."

"It's getting dark," he agreed solemnly. "We should head back."

"Walk with me?" she inquired hopefully.

"Sorry, love, but I've an errand to complete for Elijah." Standing up, he brushed an unexpected kiss against her cheek and strode off in the opposite direction.

"See you around," she called after him. Caroline pressed her hand to her cheek and frowned dazedly before walking out of the clearing.

After Caroline's subtle rejection of him, Klaus moved on.

* * *

A couple months passed as the couple danced around each other and their innate connection and sexual tension and also attempted to find others to date.

One November afternoon, Caroline found Klaus and Kol's dorm door open and waltzed right in. Upon entering, she heard small moans and sighs of pleasure, all the tell-tale signs of illicit activities, that she ignored, attributing them to Kol.

"Klaus? Klaus. Klaus!" she called as she drifted towards the living room, despite the lack of response. "Is anyone even home? Kol? Klaus! Klaus! Have you seen Rebekah? I think she borrowed my Chanel scar-OH! Oh shit!"

Caroline had stumbled upon a shirtless Klaus making out with a half-naked redhead on the couch, his hand delving-oh, she didn't want to see this.

She turned away, covering her face yet still peeking from between her fingers because, fuck!, that redhead was gorgeous. "Klaus!" she almost-whimpered.

"Huh?" As Klaus became aware that his favorite blonde (he would never tell Rebekah) was standing and observing him ashamedly, he tore his lips away from the girl in front of him and turned his attention to Caroline, high-sensitive to the fact that his curls were a riotous mess. "Caroline?" he asked gruffly as the redhead moved to slip her shirt back on.

"Yeah!" she replied loudly, peeking to make sure that Klaus and his female companion were decent before uncovering her eyes. "I was, um, looking for Bekah. Is she here?"

Awkward, Caroline groaned. Just awkward.

"No, she is not…" Klaus answered uncertainly. "Are you fine, love? You look awfully flushed."

"I'm fine!" she interjected loudly. Repeating softly, she attempted a smile that resembled more of a grimace, "I'm fine." Clearing her throat, she turned to the redhead. "Um, hi. Who are you?"

"Aurora. Klaus' girlfriend." The redhead also had an accent, Australian if Caroline was correct.

"Oh!" Caroline was taken aback. "You have a girlfriend. Is that where you've been all these weeks? We haven't seen you in a while." She blinked uncertainly.

"Yeah!" Klaus wrapped an arm around Aurora who was staring at Caroline puzzlingly.

Aurora smiled deviously, and Klaus groaned internally. This was going to be bad.

"You must be Caroline, his best friend from the small town he lived in ten years ago. So wonderful that you are still friends. Though it seems that nineteen years is too long to be just friends." Aurora stroked Klaus' curls possessively. "Isn't it, Nik?"

Caroline stiffened at the use of the nickname that only Klaus' siblings and Stefan used to call him. "Well, I reject him," she replied dryly.

Aurora brightened considerably. "Isn't that lovely news!" Her laugh was sharp and mocking. "Now, Nik, I believe that it is time for me to leave."

"Yes, yes, it is." Klaus offered Aurora her jacket and walked her to his door.

"Nice meeting you, Caroline," she called bitchily as she left.

Klaus grimaced. "I'm sorry about that, love. Aurora is a lovely girl. She is just incredibly insecure."

She was suddenly jealous and defensive. Caroline clenched her fists. Aurora had struck a nerve. Caroline was used to being the second choice of so many guys. Tyler had taken her on one date before deciding that she was too neurotic for him. Matt had still been in love with Elena when he dated Caroline. Damon had cheated on her multiple times in their three-month relationship, because Caroline, at age sixteen, had been too naïve for him. Stefan had straight-up rejected her, because Elena was better apparently. And the one guy who had seemed to want to choose Caroline first; well, Caroline shut him down. All because she felt it was too soon. Now, even he moved on. She snarled inaudibly. "Caroline, my name is Caroline. Isn't that right, Nik?" Caroline echoed tauntingly.

His expression hardened. "Caroline," he said warningly. "I believe we agreed that we could date anyone."

"We never did," she corrected him. "I was waiting for you to ask me on a date for months. You never did." She crossed her arms stubbornly, hissing in his face. "But you picked Aurora up first from wherever you found that bitch."

Klaus snarled almost inhumanly. "You fucking rejected me!" He took a menacing step towards Caroline. "You said no to whatever we had!"

Not to be intimidated, Caroline stepped towards him until they were chest-to-chest. "I said no to sleeping with you! Not pursuing a relationship!" she whispered furiously. "Whatever we had was a five minute makeout session in Whitmore's dining hall. Besides, from what Rebekah told me, it seemed that you used to be a lady-killer back in London. That you slept with Elijah's girlfriend. The one he almost proposed to."

His jaw clenched, and Klaus ground his teeth. "That's brilliant, love. Use Rebekah as your grapevine." Klaus towered over her, gazing down with turbulent eyes. "I suppose she never told you that Tatia approached me first. That she was nineteen and I was fifteen; that she never told me that she was dating Elijah since she graduated from high school two years before him. She'd meet us in between holidays at her college. She played us for two years. When we found out, she claimed to love us both. Of course, Mikael, my beloved step-father, used that as an opportunity to portray me as a villain. Rebekah and Kol never found out the truth. My first love crushed my heart."

Caroline was hesitant now upon seeing the glassy, heartbroken expression in Klaus' eyes. But, her heart hardened, and she felt a sudden urge of cruelty. "So, so what? You got played. So you spent the next two years sleeping around?" she snarled with a dry rasp in her voice.

"I had a crush on you when we were nine. That Damon-influenced little kiss did not help. It was a childish thing, but the moment I recognized you three months ago, all those naïve feelings came back. I thought we could have something. Then you stopped us, and I believed that you did not want anything but friendship from me. So I met Aurora." Klaus paced back and forth relentlessly as he explained. "Besides." He grinned maliciously. "I heard you made your own way around Mystic Falls, love. Damon, Stefan, Matt, Tyler, even Enzo, your dear Bonnie's boyfriend. And, who was Jesse?"

"That's none of your business!" Caroline cried loudly. "How dare you?" Her hand whipped across Klaus' face. Her eyes glimmered with growing tears, and her lip quivered. She could not look him in the eyes.

He lifted a hand to his throbbing cheek, eying Caroline, already regretting his words. His heart clenched at her crestfallen expression. "Caroline, I'm sorry-" he attempted to apologize gently.

But it was too late.

Caroline dashed into her own dorm and slammed the door shut, whipping around to face the living room for privacy.

Instead, she found her roommate Davina straddling Kol as they kissed as if they were dying. The unexpected sight only fueled Caroline's agony.

"Fuck you!" she screamed as she disappeared into her room and dived upon her bed, the dam breaking as she began to sob heavily.

Davina broke off from Kol as she stared at where Caroline had been.

"What the fuck?" Kol asked, shocked.

"I don't know either." Davina jumped to her feet, pulling Kol up. "I think it had to do with your brother. You should go."

* * *

Days passed as Caroline remained holed up in her room, allowing no one inside. She called in sick for classes, emailing her teachers that she was going through a hard emotional time and asking them to email her homework back.

She emerged not even to eat or drink water, instead relying on the rations she had for emergency cases.

"Come out, Caroline!" Stefan hollered, knocking on her door. He glanced at Elena who gazed at Caroline's door in concern.

"Please, Caroline," she attempted. "Come out."

No response.

"Care. Just tell us what happened," Bonnie whispered, pressed up against the door.

"Caroline Forbes! I will break your fucking door down if you do not come out!" Katherine declared.

"Gorgeous!" Enzo yelled, pounding on her door but shaking his head to Bonnie when he failed.

Even Rebekah and Kol tried.

"Caroline, I know Nik hurt you. Come out, he wants to apologize!" Rebekah called softly. "Caroline! I'll give you my Coach purse and return your Chanel scarf. And let you use my Dior perfume."

"Bribing her is not working!" Kol told his sister. "Darling, come out! Your lovely roommates haven't seen your face in ages. Davina and Gia are dying without your beauty! There's a bloke named Tyler here to see you."

Nothing worked.

There was no response. Not even a sniffle.

All her friends gathered concernedly in the living room three days later.

"What's going on?" Katherine demanded.

"I dunno," Kol replied.

Rebekah pursued her lips. "She and Nik fought or something."

"About what?" Elena questioned.

"I have no fucking idea!" someone exclaimed.

Stefan frowned, running his hands through his gelled hair. "Caroline would never act like this. She definitely had feelings for Klaus."

"Where is this Klaus bloke anyways?" Enzo snarled. "Gorgeous never cries like this."

Rebekah took on a defensive pose. "He's a stubborn wanker; he's going to try and apologize when she opens her door."

One day later and still no sign from Caroline had Rebekah practically shoving her older brother out the door.

"Go apologize to her!" she ordered. "Apologize or go live with Elijah!"

Sighing, Klaus knocked softly on her door. "Caroline, love. Are you in there?" he asked gently. "I'm sorry, Caroline." When he found no response, he repeated more loudly, "Caroline!"

There was a quiet sniffle. Then she replied with a hoarse voice. "Fuck off, Klaus."

"That's the problem, sweetheart," Klaus smirked despite the mood. "I can't do that until you open the door."

There was a long, angry silence.

Klaus groaned. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Bad joke. Bad joke."

"Terrible, actually," Caroline replied dryly, her voice muffled by the door.

"I know. Now, can you open the door so I can actually apologize?" he asked hopefully.

"I can't."

He sighed. "Why not, sweetheart?"

"I can't open the damn door. It's jammed, and Housing said that no one can come to fix it until next week."

"What?" he repeated loudly. "So have you been ignoring us all on purpose? I'm furious!" Klaus chuckled quietly.

"I stopped crying two days ago, if that's what you mean. But I can't open the door so I've been using my mini-fridge and microwave."

"Why haven't you called anyone?" Klaus demanded suddenly.

"Can't. Phone's dead. Can't find my charger. Plus, I couldn't face anyone like this."

"So what can I do now?" he inquired.

"Nothing actually." There were sounds of Caroline shifting in bed, and her voice became clearer. "Actually, come in through the window."

Klaus gaped at her locked door. "But you live six fucking floors up!" he protested.

"Do you want to apologize or not, Mikaelson?" came her sardonic reply.

"I'll see you in a moment, Caroline."

* * *

Twenty minutes, ten scratches all over his forearms, a torn Henley, and a broken tree branch later, Klaus hauled himself through Caroline's window.

Turning towards him from where she was burrito-rolled in dozens of blankets, Caroline began to giggle uncontrollably.

Klaus was a sight to see.

Scratches marring his handsome face, a small bleeding gaze on his chin, and a shredded shirt. Plus, the small branch sticking in his curly hair.

When Klaus perched on the edge of Caroline's bed, she pulled the leaf out and tossed it away. "You're a sight to see, Klaus." She laughed melodiously.

"I climbed a fucking fifty-foot building to apologize to you. I am sorry, Caroline. I am incredibly sorry."

Her expression sobered. "It's fine. Honestly, after Bill left, I was in a dark place. Hence, I slept around a bit. I blamed myself for Dad leaving, and I became incredibly insecure."

In an uncharacteristic action, Klaus wrapped Caroline into a hug. "I'm sorry, love." He released her and stepped away awkwardly. "I broke up with Aurora."

At this news, Caroline sat up quickly and rose to her feet, stalking closer to Klaus. Startled, he jumped back until he was pinned to the wall by Caroline. She crushed her lips to his and draped her arms around his neck.

"What are you doing, Caroline?" he questioned, struggling to remove his lips from Caroline's.

"I'm not wasting anymore time." She tilted his head back, peppering kisses up and around the juncture of his shoulder and neck. When he moaned in pleasure, she moved to sucking at his pulse point. He seemed quite pleased with her admission.

In between quavering exhales, Klaus murmured, "Let me take you on a date first." But, as if to prove that she was the one dominating the beginning of their relationship, Caroline tugged at his curls roughly, and he moaned loudly and wantonly.

Caroline paused for a moment, and Klaus attempted to lunge forward and capture her lips again. She placed a hand in front of him to refuse him. "Not until our date," she stated playfully.

Klaus groaned in frustration. "Fine." He moved backwards, unknowingly moving towards the window.

"Klaus…" Caroline said warningly.

"As you wish, sweetheart." He took one more step back.

Suddenly, he slipped, tripping backwards on Caroline's low window ledge, and fell out the window, tumbling through the air.

"KLAUS!" Caroline screamed in fear as she watched him fall.

* * *

 _Ten years later_

"And so," Kol continued narrating. "Our lovely couple found themselves spending their first date in the hospital, where my idiot brother spent two weeks recovering from his broken ribs and leg. Thankfully, he grabbed onto the tree as he fell, or we would not have been here at all."

Caroline groaned from where she had buried her head in Klaus' chest, despite her previous insistence upon not ruining her bridal hairdo. "Make him shut up," she complained to her new husband.

"Wrap it up, Kol!" Klaus ordered his brother, tugging his wife closer to his side. His heart swelled at calling Caroline that.

"Please, Kol! Stop!" Davina begged her fiancé from where she sat beside him.

"But what about the time Caroline was chased by bees and they fell into a lake when Nik proposed?" Kol protested. "Everyone needs to here that!"  
"Shut it you, twat!" Rebekah whacked Kol on the back on the head.

"Rebekah!" Elijah, Finn, and Freya chastised her simultaneously.

"I'm done!" Kol announced.

"Good," everyone groaned, especially Katherine loudly from her seat next to her husband.

"I would like to say something!" Klaus declared, releasing Caroline and standing up.

The wedding guests cheered, most of them drunk of champagne. A painfully sober Mikael glared at Klaus, despite Esther's tight grip on his wrist.

"First of all," Klaus said. "Thank you for coming. All our friends, some new, some old. Some unwanted." He glared at Damon.

"You're welcome, buddy!" Damon shouted back, his arm around his girlfriend Rayna.

"Shut up, Damon!" both Liz and Alaric hissed at him from the neighboring table.

"Once again, despite the rude interruptions, thank you for coming. This day means the world for me. Caroline and I ran into so many bumps from the beginning. Almost two decades ago, Damon Salvatore dared me to kiss my future bride as a nine-year-old. I guess we have to thank him for that. What Kol said was correct, if I hadn't fallen out a window," guests chuckled, "Caroline and I probably would not have fallen in love as quickly as we did. Caroline became part of the family as she had been during our childhood. But then, the mentioned bumps. I moved back to England for a year and a half, and our relationship turned rocky. There was a point in those sixteen years where she believed me to be having an affair with my therapist, who to this date has remained my friend and Caroline's despite the accusations." Camille laughed from across the room. "Then Henrik, my baby brother, died."

The mood sobered immediately.

Rebekah's eyes glittered with tears, Esther and Mikael frowned, and Freya turned her head away.

"That was a severely-dark point in our relationship history where I abandoned Caroline for months, ignored her, took her for granted. You see," Klaus cleared his throat. "I was driving Henrik back to the airport when he came to visit us in New Orleans. A truck collided with us. Poor Henrik died on the spot, and I spent a month in a coma. I blamed myself for his death. That's why I began to see Cami and occasionally her husband Vincent for therapy."

Tears were streaming down Caroline's face now as she remembered how low she had felt those years ago.

"Don't cry, love." He brushed a tear tenderly away from her cheeks "I know this speech is horrible. That's why this is your hobby, giving toasts at weddings. My family has been through a lot. Caroline was an only sibling, and she found a horde more in mine. She truly became part of the family when she talked Kol out of running away from his problems when he accidentally ran over Davina's cat." Davina was glaring at him now, though there was laughter hidden in her steely eyes. "We've had Freya marrying Lucien, Finn and Sage and their devil's spawn, Elijah and the less tolerable Gilbert twin-"

"Shut up, asshole!" Katherine called. "Get to the point."

"Right." Klaus blinked. "The point in my incoherent ramblings is Kol and Davina are engaged, but when are you proposing to Gia, Rebekah?" When no one laughed and his sister and her girlfriend stared daggers at him, he continued. "The point is, Caroline. You are strong, beautiful, full of light. We'll be together forever, my love. You shall always be mine; I shall always be yours. I love you."

To the cheering of the crowd, Klaus pressed his lips to Caroline's and kissed her under they were both incoherent and breathless.

When she came up, gasping for breath, Caroline muttered against his lips, "You know that I'm keeping my last name, right? Caroline Mikaelson sounds awful."

"Klaus Forbes sounds no better," he replied.

She chuckled elatedly. "You know I love you right."

"I know. I love you too, sweetheart." At the insistent clearing of Caroline's throat, he corrected himself, "Fine. I love you, Caroline. I love you."

* * *

 **Review, review, review.**


	3. A Thousand Years Comes To This

**For Day Two of Spring Klaroline AU Week, AU: Butterfly Effect.**

 **Follows the canon-ish events of TO 7X17**

 **Read and Review.**

* * *

They storm his house when he is painting.

Klaus should have expected it, _truly_. Finn, while a bore and a pit of self-agonizing and hatred for his family, had been their brother, and a thousand years ago, Klaus and his siblings had loved him.

Then Lucien took one bite from his neck, and it was curtains for their eldest brother. By then, from what Lucien had told Elijah and Freya, it was obvious that the entire family was next, though Lucien wanted to kill Klaus first. But Klaus couldn't be affected by wolf venom, being part wolf himself, and they were freshly out of White Oak; hence, the Mikaelsons had assumed themselves momentarily safe.

 _Fools._

Lucien brings with him his army of elder vampires and cast-off witches. Spawn of the most powerful covens, the Nine of the Crescent City, the Bennetts, the Gemini, and others of most of the covens on this doomed planet, they blast their way in.

Despite her power, Freya's cloaking spells and wards never stood a chance.

With ease, they toss Kol's little witch aside first, Kol's face contorting into his true demon ( _black veins and razor-sharp fangs, what a pretty face can hide_ ) and snarling under the weight of an immobilization spell as he watches his Davina crumple limply ( _ragged doll, oh, fragile human_ ) against the stone wall of the Mikaelson Compound.

He and Elijah rush the army, tearing hearts from flimsy skin and snapping necks in heartbeats. _Blood paints the floor the pretty crimson that Rebekah preferred during the Prohibition._

But _just merely an arm's reach_ away from Lucien, Elijah slumps to the floor, neck bent unnaturally; there is the monotonous buzz of four dozen witches chanting in unison.

Hayley lies at his feet, dead momentarily.

Lucien stalks over to Klaus who has been forced to his knees and rakes a lone hand through his sire's dirty-blond curls. Klaus snarls, but he cannot duck away; he has been supernaturally paralyzed from the neck down. "So, Nik. What do you think?" Lucien questions eagerly. He spreads his arms wide, crowing, "Now that you see my exquisite con."

"The protégé outdoes the master," Klaus rasps dryly in reply. He is suddenly _elated_ that Freya had spelled Hope and herself away on the first sign of ambush.

"Yes, yes. I think so too." Lucien taps his chin thoughtfully. "You must think me a fool for this; what will I gain from this hijack on your home? I cannot kill you yet."

Klaus glares daggers at the dark-haired vampire, struggling under the pressure of the immobilization spell. "Enlighten me."

"We were no different from each other when we first met a thousand years ago. We were both cast-offs, unwanted, lonely under a sea of a thousand stars. You found a kinship in me; you became my first friend in the twenty-something mortal years I had lived." Lucien smiled serenely, caressing Klaus' shoulder tightly. "I thought you and your siblings to be gods, holy and supreme, my salvation." His face became turbulent, a turmoil of cautious respect and hidden rage storming about his steely eyes. "But you all proved undeserving of that gift."

"So this is revenge," Klaus surmised. "You shall rid the world of all the Originals, starting with me."

"No, Nik. This is replacement. _I replace you_. Aurora becomes Rebekah. _The rest of you and your siblings perish._ Though, I have no need to kill the lovely Freya. Perhaps, I'll keep her around, first and last Mikaelson to survive. She can be an amusement for me before Aurora grows to love me. We all know that that won't be immediate, though, Nik; _you broke Aurora_. And in the same way, I'll break your sister. _Call it throwing future dirt on your future grave._ " Lucien threaded his fingers between each other, resting his chin on his hands.

Pain is what follows. _Pain that he has never felt before; pain that drowns every coherent thought, drives his monster away._

He remembers feeling his blood boiling.

He remembers his skin lighting on fire that wouldn't burn him

He remembers his heart surging out of his chest, struggling to pump blood to his undead heart.

When it is over, he remembers his body slumping to the floor.

He remembers the exhaustion that took over, _the strange feeling of emptiness as a thousand years of magic is stripped from his bones from his body and his inner creature locked away once more._

He remembers the darkness blossoming across his vision until his head droops and he sleeps.

* * *

Klaus immediately realizes that something has changed when he regains consciousness.

Everything is _dull_ ; his vision is no longer crystal-clear and vivid. There is a vibrancy and vitality missing from his surroundings, almost as if all the color in his life was muted.

His instinct is reaffirmed as he sits up against the mahogany headboard, the ancient bedsprings creaking as he does, and his own shallow breathing echoes loudly in his ears, filtered in between bursts of static.

His head throbs with merciless vigor he has never experienced before. His body is limp and pliant, slumped against the plump pillows of his bed, and every continuous shifting of his body causes a low ache to explode against his spine, resonating through his bone hollowly.

"Elijah," Klaus croaks desperately, his own voice the equivalent of nails screeching on a chalkboard to his ears.

His elder brother appears in the room, Klaus' feeble eyes unable to comprehend the swift movement of vampire speed. "No, Niklaus!" Elijah orders to the younger man as Klaus attempts to slide to his feet.

Ignoring Elijah's warning, Klaus stretches his calves out and crumples to the floor as deadweight. His entire body is weak, something foreign to Klaus.

Elijah kneels beside his fallen brother, stroking his hair tenderly. "Niklaus, you have not yet understood, have you?" There is concern shadowed in his eyes, poorly concealing his pity.

 _Pity_. Klaus sneers at his brother's expression. _Pity for Niklaus the abused._ "Understood what?" he demands of the Original vampire.

"You are no longer a vampire, nor are you a werewolf. You are human."

Freya explains hurriedly as she packs supplies for Klaus. ( _You are no longer safe here,_ she says. _You must run, flee as best as you can, unhindered by Hayley or your daughter._ )

Lucien had somehow obtained a drop of doppelganger blood containing the vampire Cure. Using a modified version, they stripped the vampirism from Klaus' bones, a thousand years gone at once.

"Why can this not be undone?" Klaus questioned his eldest sister insistently, paranoia amok upon his countenance. "What of my werewolf heritage?"

"I have attempted, but the Cure's composition prevents any healing magic from affecting you. Vampire blood will not work on you, as we have tried whilst you remained unconscious. And your werewolf curse: Suppressed, as Esther had done for nine hundred years. They have tied your curse to," Freya hesitates, "Hope."

His eyes steel, his heart hardening. "So I am to not embrace my true nature as long as my daughter lives."

Kol chimes in from the background, "It is unlikely that you will outlive our niece."

"Kol is blunt but correct." Elijah frowns, lips pursuing in disapproval. "You have been given a second chance. You must take it and remain safe. Freya will cover your traces with her magic. We will call upon you when we believe you can come back."

Klaus packs his thousand years into a bag. Three sets of clothes. Toiletries. All the sketchbooks and charcoal pencils he can fit. Few of the artifacts he has collected over the years, including first editions of Tolstoy and his correspondences with Magellan. A few Dark objects for bartering with witches. Six vials of his siblings' blood, specially enchanted by Freya to truly heal him.

 _A thousand years comes to this_.

* * *

A month after settling into his new apartment in urban San Francisco, Klaus plucks a single strand of grey from his sandy curls.

Upon examining it, he snarls and unintentionally swipes at his shaving razor, slicing his hand open cleanly. ( _The blood glistens, and Klaus can feel his stomach churn uneasily_.)

He rifles through his stash of vampire blood, clutching the last vial in despair, as he comprehends that this is his last link to immortality.

Klaus sets the vial back into his safe and slams open his first-aid kit, hastily disinfecting and bandaging the wound. His movements are deliberate, slow, clumsy.

He is still getting used to being mortal, being human, _being vulnerable_.

(Originally, he had expected a sudden onslaught of _human emotions_ , of anger, or despair, of self-hatred and pity. _Vampirism amplified humanity_.

When no change of heart came, he realized _his paranoia, his temper, his cruelty, that was all him._ No curse or magic had shaped him into _Klaus_ , the revered Original Hybrid.

 _That was simply a part of him_.)

He returns his attention to the grey hair, first sign of his body aging in a thousand and twenty-six years.

 _He punches the mirror._

He punches the mirror, and the glass shatters, embedding itself into his skin, slicing _paper_ flesh. Blood drips from the mirror and dilutes the water in the sink, the wash of red and the grey hair swirling down the drain.

His hand _throbs_ intensely, blood oozing from small cuts on his knuckles. _Sharp, slight, slicing agony_.

It's a different kind of pain, a mind-clearing relief more than _discomfort_.

Grabbing a half-empty bottle of bourbon from a cabinet in his kitchenette, he slumps on his overstuffed couch and takes a swig. _And then two. And then three._

The liquor settles in his body, weighs his bones down, loosens his body, numbs his mind.

Half a bottle is enough to blur his vision, stagger his walk, _numb the notion of mortality in his mind_.

His tolerance for alcohol is a fucking joke now.

Klaus latches on to a second bottle and stumbles out of his apartment, barely recalling the need to tug the door shut behind him.

Tripping down three flights of stairs, he slips outside, under the stretch of a thousand stars, _each a year of his life_.

He leans against a tree and slides to sit at the base of it, drowning his problems at the bottom of a bottle of cheap liquor.

Mikael must be laughing in his grave.

Klaus clutches the bottle to his chest and tilts his head back to rest it against the tree, allowing the darkness to settle around him, blanketing him in misery.

* * *

 _He's drowning_ as he slips into a memory.

 _Shoved off a ship by pirates, Klaus sinks, icy water submerging him and washing up and over his head._

 _He attempts not to breathe, for he has no need to, being dead, but the pressure at his lungs forces his mouth to open, gasping for breath._

 _Frigid water rushes into his throat and lungs and nose, and he sputters and coughs, unable to clear his precious lungs. Choking, he claws at his throat over and over again, flailing as the water surrounding him bubbles under the violence of his body._

 _He thrusts his body up successfully, and his head breaks the surface of the ocean. Soaked to the bone, he chokes water out of his lungs and breathes unnecessarily, swallowing painfully the pure, salty air around him._

 _Another tide rockets over his head furiously, and he is submerged again, panicking vigorously. He drops further and further down._

 _Darkness encloses him, pressing from every possible corner until he is completely isolated. His body is racked with tremors as more and more freezing water gushes into his mouth, and his jaw locks as his eyes roll back into his head and his body falls thousands of feet under the surface._

He startles awake and lunges to his feet, gasping shallowly, his paranoid gaze scuttling around the room. His surroundings are unfamiliar.

 _Where is he?_

It takes a moment for it to settle in.

He is in his apartment.

 _He is mortal, he is mortal, he is mortal._

The moon hangs swollen in the velvety sky, and Klaus feels an urge to roam freely underneath it.

Not because of a tugging in his blood or a longing in his heart.

 _Simply because he knows that he should_. But, even his genuine heritage is sealed, _presumably for the rest of his doomed heartbeat of a mortal life._

For the first time in a thousand years, Klaus Mikaelson is truly alone.

* * *

Although he has enough money in his bank account, and various others, to last _three human lifetimes_ , he needs a purpose.

When he stumbles upon a quaint art gallery dwarfed by an industrial office complex, he has found one. He works up an informal contract with the owner; for each large canvas painting he presents to the gallery, he will be compensated $600.

Beginning with replicas, he soon churns out an approximate of $2,400 worth of paintings a month.

Klaus soon settles into a routine.

Every Sunday, he purchases an appropriate amount of fresh produce and succumbs to his human cravings with unnecessary baked goods. He may be mortal, but he is not irresponsible enough to let himself die from starvation or health issues. ( _He has lived through the Middle Ages and had seen enough peasants rot away._ )

Six days out of seven, he remains cooped in his shabby apartment and paints until his wrist stiffens and swells up when he attempts to shift it.

On Fridays, Klaus wanders to a nearby shitty bar and squanders his time in equally shitty beer. (On the rare occasion, he fucks willing girls in the alley where the dishwasher tosses the bar's trash out.)

It is a rather shitty life,

 _but now it is the only life he knows._

* * *

She is driving down the poorly-lit street, gaze sharpened on the directions on her phone as she presses on her accelerator, urging her car on.

Too busy searching for her exit to the freeway, she does not notice him as he staggers off the sidewalk, tottering across the street.

She tosses her phone to the passenger seat beside her in frustration as she discovers she missed her turn several miles back. Sighing as she prepares to make a U-turn, she glimpses his shadow against the yellowy light of the streetlamps through her peripheral vision.

She _slams_ her foot on the brake pedal, but it is already too late.

There is a sudden crunch as he hits her beloved Ford Fiesta and his body careens backwards as it thumps against the gravelly road. She shrieks.

Her car skids to an abrupt stop, and she doesn't even bother to turn the engine, instead grabbing her phone hastily and racing to the body.

"Shit, shit, _shit!_ " whimpers Caroline Forbes as she attempts to turn the body over, hoping against all hopes that the man isn't dead.

After ensuring for a pulse (hesitant, weak, and fluttering, but _still there_ ) in the cold flesh of his neck, Caroline opens up her flashlight app and shines the weak light on the man's body, assessing for injuries as best as she can.

There is a thin stream of blood at the edge of his hairline and minor bruises littering his back where she pulls his Henley up (attempting not to trace a finger over his lean and muscled chest), but he seems to have not sustained any grave injuries.

Good.

It would be a crime if she had accidentally killed a man this sinfully gorgeous.

He is not overly-tall, clocking in at about six feet, but still towers over Caroline's petite, five-foot frame and is fit in a healthy, athletic sort of way. His face is narrow with sharp cheekbones, full lips the color of ripe raspberries, a strong jaw, and tousled dirty-blond curls.

But he has the most dazzling eyes Caroline had ever seen when they open hazily, eyelids blinking groggily and fluttering shut.

Pure crystal azure awash with grey and cerulean and flecked strangely with bits of amber, they appear in constant conflict or turmoil.

Caroline gazes at them softly for a moment that stretches away slowly before diving for her phone and dialing the nearest hospital, cursing herself for her blatant irresponsibility.

* * *

Immediately, he is aware of two things:

A, the soft, rhythmic beeping of machines throughout his surroundings

and

B, the brain-splitting throbbing in both his lower abdomen and his head.

Klaus groans lowly as he clutches at his forehead and begins to massage his temples, feeling a sharp pinch in his right forearm.

He follows the prickling sensation to the needle of an IV drip embedded in the crook of his elbow and hooked to a now-empty bag. Moving to slide the needle out, he startles, flailing backwards idiotically at his pillow, when a feminine voice calls:

"Don't pull that out!"

Releasing the IV tube, Klaus slumps against the flimsy support of his pillow and sighs, "Where am I?" He turns in the general direction of the voice and is taken aback.

She is stunning, no, she is magnificent. Blond curls tumbling about her heart-shaped face, she stands and approaches his bed, cerulean almond-shaped eyes blinking uncertainly. She is clad in a simple flowery top and wool cardigan, but her best feature, her long legs, are encased in painted-on denim. Her pink lips pout adorably as she nibbles on her lower lip with anxiety and concern.

Concern, he realizes, that is directed at him.

This gorgeous stranger is _concerned_ for him, Klaus the former monstrous Original Hybrid.

 _The irony is not wasted upon him._

"You are in the hospital," she replies hesitantly, biting her lip hard enough for it to bleed.

"Why?" comes his quiet inquiry.

"Someone hit you with their car." A weighty pause later, she hastily corrects herself, " _I_ hit you with my car." Her curls quiver around her head as she begins to ramble nervously. "I…I couldn't just leave you; I hit you because I was driving back from my friend's home, an-and I'd never used that route before. I was following direction, on, on my phone, that's not the reason I hit you though. I was distracted, and you just stepped in front of my car, and I, I attempted to stop my car, but it didn't in time. And so I hit you." Her incessant chatter breaks off abruptly when she buries her head in her delicate hands, groaning ashamedly. "Oh god, I just felt so immensely guilty. That's why I brought you to the hospital." Her lips curve into an uneasy, tentative, yet apparently hopeful grin.

Despite his confusion, Klaus finds himself chuckling along; her smile is _so effervescent_ , and he is reminded of Rebekah ( _darling Bekah, at a simpler time, frolicking around in a clear creek, splashing cool water in the face of a stony Kol, when they were both new-born babes of a vamp_ ). His smile falters immediately as he recalls his baby sister, and his face returns to its stony countenance.

The blonde notices uneasily. "I'm sorry. I tried to make up for the whole 'hitting you with my car' thing." She whips her head to the side, pouting, desperation evident in her crystal eyes.

For some strange reason, his heart clenches at this strange human's guilt. "It's fine, sweetheart," Klaus drawls smoothly.

Her eyes brighten, and she giggles in relief, the melodious sound dancing throughout the small room.

 _And her radiance is so blinding, he is forced to glance away._

Her face falls again, and the spell is broken. "Shit!" She smacks herself on the forehead. "My name is Caroline. Caroline Forbes."

 _Klaus_ is on the tip of his tongue, but that is not him anymore. Caroline does not know who he is, who he was. "Nik, Nik Mikaelson."

"Well Nik," she chirps eagerly. "I hit you with my car and brought you to the hospital. Let me take you to dinner."

Dazzled by the brilliance of her elation, he is slow to reply. "Usually, I ask the beautiful woman to dinner."

"Shit," Caroline swears again. "I'm not being too direct, right."

"No, 's fine." His answer is slurred as he feels himself being drowsy with a sudden burst of lethargy.

"That'll be the pain meds kicking in," she frowns. "I'll leave you to be. My cell phone number is written on the slip of paper on the table beside you. Text me when you're released, and we'll set a date."

"Of course, love." Nik swallows heavily as she beams. "I'll see you soon." His body relaxes as he allows his mind to be swept away.

* * *

Nik finds the scrap of paper by his hospital bed's side table indeed as Caroline had told him. He tucks it into the pocket of his leather jacket, tugging it tighter over his blood-stained shirt. He has no choice but to wear the clothes he was injured in home.

Funny word, home.

Six months away from his sisters, from his brothers, from Marcel, from _his daughter_ , and he has already been isolated from them in every way. No communication, no visits.

He truly is the most alone he has ever been.

Nik's heart swells painfully as he recalls Camille, the brave bartender he had begun to give his heart to.

One kiss they shared, and she ended up dead.

 _She is safer and better off away from him._

Another blonde comes into mind, Caroline. So pure and full of vitality she is.

The candlelight that flickered in Camille and was snuffed out by vampirism is a wildfire in Caroline.

 _He has a feeling that vampirism will make her blaze, set the world aflame._

Returning to his apartment and changing into fresher, cleaner clothes, he tosses his old set into the garbage disposal bin. ( _Blood makes his stomach churn._ He cannot stand the sight of it anymore.)

He retrieves the scrap of paper, a cell phone number written upon it in thin loopy script.

Nik texts her:

 _This is Nik. You hit me with your car._

She replies a few minutes later:

 **Ouch, don't remind me. I'm sorry bout that.**

 _It's fine. I'm still limping._

 **Haha.**

 _You wanted to take me to dinner._

 **Yeah. Let me take you on a date tomorrow instead.**

 _A date? A true date. Not just a fast food restaurant drive-thru? Are they truly considered restaurants? The service at one of those places…_

 **Hilarious. I actually love Taco Bell, helps when I'm stressed. And yes, an actual date. In fact, tomorrow. Are you free?**

 _A sad fact you'll discover about my life, luv. I'm always free._

 **No friends?**

 _Are you one?  
_ **I owe this to you, I guess. I did hit you with a car.**

 _That makes you my first friend in this godforsaken foggy city._

 **Ugh, this city. It's foggy most days but never seems to rain.**

 _I moved here half a year ago. Still hasn't grown on me. When shall I meet you tomorrow night?_

 **Come to my apartment in the evening tomorrow. Dress casually. I'll text you the address.**

 _Please do._

* * *

There's a knock on her door as Caroline finishes painting her lips a coral pink. She caps her lipstick tube and sets it on her vanity, assessing herself in the mirror quickly.

Causal for her is her hair in loose waves, a green and blue floral sundress, coral heels, and soft makeup. Caroline runs her hands through her curls to loosen them even more.

Casual for him, she discovers at her door, is a charcoal-grey Henley, jeans, scruffy combat boots, a couple corded necklaces slung around his neck, and messy curls which are even more a turn-on for Caroline.

Leaning against the doorway, Nik hands Caroline a bouquet of daisies, smirking heavily at her gaping expression. "I'd brought you roses, but I took you for more of a less traditional woman, sweetheart," he explains with amusement weighing his lilting voice.

Her mouth finally slams shut as she takes a moment to recover her wits. "Wow, flowers!" Caroline snarks sarcastically. "You're a true gentleman."

Sensing some genuine sentiment in her speech, he asks in an intrigued tone, "Your other boys don't bring you flowers?"

"It's not the type of things guys do nowadays," Caroline admits truthfully, though she is still slightly bewildered.

Nik's mouth quirks up in a strange grin, almost as if he is not used to smiling freely. "You'll find, my love, that I am a very traditional man whereas I understand you are not."

"Stop with the pet names!" she bursts. "What are you, a hundred?"

"A thousand."

Caroline blinks at Nik slowly, bemused at the sobriety he spoke with. His tone of voice is grave and in no way indicates humor. Clearing her bafflement with a shake of her head, she murmurs "Whatever" under her breath. She shoves Nik out of the doorway and behind her as she locks her door. "Let's go." Caroline turns and leads the way down the hall.

* * *

She takes him to a pub-inspired bar she discovered on a late night drive. It's not a dive bar, but it's also not the shitty hipster bars that travel bloggers rave about. It's a little place, slightly rundown, but homey and perfect for two people who are detached from the city.

They settle into a tattered booth, ordering whiskey for themselves.

"This place has great burgers," she mentions offhandedly, wincing as the whiskey burns, though not entirely unpleasantly, her throat.

Nik surprises her by downing the entire dusty glass in one go, setting it down with a quiet thud. "I've spent a great deal of my life relying on hard liquor," he tells her upon noticing her expression.

"Alcoholic?" she inquires, fiddling with the clasp on her leather purse distractedly.

"No, love." He snorts suddenly, running a finger along the rim of his empty glass. "I know control, trust me."

Caroline shudders at the way he pronounces _control_ , rolling the _r_ in an almost seductive purr. "So, what brings you to this shitty city of all places?"

"Not a big fan of San Francisco?" Nik teases playfully.

She bursts into laughter unexpectedly. "I hate this place. I want to move away as soon as possible."

"Why brought you here? If you wish to leave, why haven't you already?" Nik places his forearms on the table, leaning forward. "What grounds you here?" Sensing her uncertainty, he murmurs sensually, hypnotically, "Tell me, sweetheart."

As if compelled to answer, Caroline replies, "I moved here three years ago, right after college graduation. My dad wanted me to go into our family business as an entrepreneur. I defied him to work as an assistant at a premier wedding planning agency." Instinctually, she has shifted closer to Nik until their faces hover mere inches apart.

"That takes guts," he comments appreciatively. "To stand up to your father."

"What about you?" Caroline unconsciously begins to twirl a lock of blonde around her slender finger. She's staring at his lips, startlingly dark as they are, and waiting for him to make the first move. Her breath hitches in her lungs, and her heart speeds up.

"No matter about me." Nik shakes his head dismissively, and the spell is broken. "I work as an artist. Not a real job, but it pays the bills."

"An artist, huh?" She raises one fine, elegant eyebrow. "You'll fit in fine with the hipster type here." Caroline concentrates intensely on keeping her face slack as, mentally, she burns with shame for misreading a situation where he in fact was not going to kiss her.

Nik scoffs inelegantly. "Their feeble minds could comprehend true art if it slapped them in the face."

She laughs loudly, the sound reverberating around the empty pub. Rubbing her stomach as it growled exceedingly, Caroline flags down a waitress. "What do you want?" she hisses to Nik.

"Whatever you're having, love," he replies, twiddling his thumb disinterestedly.

"Two cheeseburgers," she tells the waitress. When they are once again alone, Caroline comments idly, "I would love to see your work."

"I can take you to the gallery after we eat," Nik offers sincerely.

"I would be honored," Caroline replies playfully.

He watches her as she chatters animatedly, blond curls quivering with her every motion.

Nik was wrong.

She isn't light.

 _She's the epitome of sunshine._ Bright. Radiant. Beautiful.

Caroline notices him staring at her, and she frowns, brows knitting in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Huh? What did you say, sweetheart?" Nik tears himself from his thoughts.

"Is everything okay?" she asks in concern. "You seemed very distracted."

"Oh, no. Just thinking, love." He turns his head at the tap-tap of heels to find the waitress bringing them their orders.

After the waitress sets down their plates and Caroline thanks her politely, she scowls. "Stop with the pet names."

His lips quirk up into a roguish grin. "Can't, _sweetheart_ ," he declares smugly. "They're out of habit."

Polishing off her burger, she shoots him a mock glare, eyes narrowing, before she doubles over in laughter. "C'mon, sweetheart," she mocks in a faux British accent as soon as Nik has finished his own burger and throws his dirty napkin down. "Let's get a move on."

"Well, sweetheart." Nik smirks devilishly. "Your accent is rubbish. But I agree. Let me take you to the gallery some other time. Let us enjoy the evening air; it is quite pleasant outside." He quickly leaves behind two twenties to cover for the cost of the meal plus a tip before Caroline can complain about splitting the bill.

They exit the pub and stroll down the concrete sidewalk, past small stores and boutiques closed for the night.

He was right; the night is quite beautiful. The moon is a suspended half-crescent, casting a pale silvery light down, and a warm breeze blows briskly around their ankles, swaying Caroline's skirt with its motion.

Raising her head to the sky, she giggles as she glances towards the stars. The moon's light bathes her in a hazy, warm glow, and Caroline twirls under the light, her dress flowing alongside her.

His _foolish human heart_ skips a beat.

Caroline is so gorgeous, graceful and elegant, under the moon. And he knows immediately that he is caught, enchanted by her unintentional charms. ( _He's the diamond, and she has thrown her net and ensnared his heart._ He won't allow himself to be released so easily.)

* * *

 _Three weeks later_

 **Hey.**

 _Good afternoon, luv. Is there a particular reason you have chosen to grace me with your wonderful presence?_

 **Nah, just bored. Trapped in a meeting that seems it will never end.**

 _Shouldn't you be paying attention, sweetheart? What happens if your boss catches you?_

 **I am the highest-ranked employee at this meeting. My boss is not here. The others don't care what I do as long as I glance up every once in a while and say something like "A splash of orange will balance the red out in the table settings."**

 _How oddly specific. Now, how may I be of assistance to you, Caroline?_

 **Amuse me.**

 _Pardon me._

 **Tell me how your day is going. Ya know, you type like an old man.**

 _I am ancient, sweetheart._

 **What did we say about the pet names…?**

 _I apologize, Caroline. Your birth name is far too beautiful to be used so often._

 **Good. Now, what're you doing?**

 _Painting._

 **Painting what?**

 _A beautiful blonde who dances under the moon and won't stop occupying my mind all day._

 **You wound me… Wait! Really?**

 _Of course._

 **No! No, no, no. Did I mention, NO!**

 _Why not, sweetheart?_

 **There are so many better images for you to paint.**

 _But you're my muse, sweetheart. You're strong, beautiful, full of light._

 **Fine, but I better get to see it.**

 _You will, in due time. For now, you must still see my other paintings at the gallery._

 **Speaking of which, thanks for coffee yesterday.**

 _Lunch? At my place? I will cook._

 **Ugh, no! Don't tempt me, Nik. I'm swamped in work; there's no way I'm leaving here before six.**

 _Perhaps another time then._

 **Yeah. Oops. Meeting's over. Gotta go.**

 _Goodbye, sweetheart._

* * *

Caroline bends over a stack of paper, scribbling nonstop to fill out reminders and request forms. She huffs, frustrated, shoving a stubborn lock of golden hair back behind her ear from where it's falling out of her messy bun. Her tongue is tucked in between her pursed lips as she hums in concentration. Ignoring sudden whispers and indiscrete gossiping by her co-workers, Caroline works on autopilot.

There are footsteps approaching her, noisy and clacking on the floor. She glances towards them, prepared to rage at whoever dares to interrupt her process.

But, to her bewilderment, the shoes are a man's, exquisite buttery black Italian leather and delicate stitch work.

None of her male co-workers own shoes like these or most likely this expensive.

As her eyes rove over a delicious body, they finally reach the chiseled face on Nik, tell-tale smirk plastered on.

"Surprise, love," he crows smugly.

Caroline is taken aback. "What? How? Huh?" she manages to stutter in between stretches of confusion.

Nik grins whilst he explains. "You couldn't come to lunch, so I brought lunch to you." Lifting a plastic bag of white containers, he continues, "I come bearing gifts: Crab linguini and tiramisu."

"You cooked my favorite cuisine?" she asks, astounded.

"No, love. I actually picked up takeout. I want you to be able to appreciate and savor my cooking another day." He sets the bags on her desk in the space that she quickly clears.

"At least you brought me food. It's the nicest thing anyone's done for me today. But I can't eat. Work is piling on, and now I'm behind," Caroline grumbles in complaint.

His brows knit together in concern. "You don't have food, love? You're only human; you must keep yourself healthy."

"Whatever." She dismisses him with a scornful sneer. "No time."

"No." Nik perches on the second chair in her cubicle and pulls her work aside, demanding her attention.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" Caroline complains loudly. Upon noticing several heads glance her direction curiously, she quiets down, whispering, "Don't you have to paint or something?" Directing a meaningful gaze to his clothes (fancier than his usual Henley and jeans: a grey cotton long-sleeve shirt and olive-green coat with military-style buttons and of course those damned shoes), she asks, "What? Were you on a date?"

"Meeting with a potential client at the gallery," Nik answers good-naturedly. "Now, give me fifteen minutes so we can eat."

After long minutes of consideration, Caroline eventually snaps, "Fine!" Her lips quirk up into a weak grin when Nik tugs at one of her curls.

Nik smiles victoriously, ripping the bag open and distributing containers around the desk. He hands one to Caroline who beams eagerly at the smell of gourmet pasta.

They sit around her desk, chatting and eating, and the rest of Caroline's co-workers staring on in jealousy.

Caroline feels satisfied; there is someone to care about her.

When Nik digs into the last of the tiramisu, forking some away from Caroline's plate childishly, there is a faint flutter in her heart, and she blushes.

Nik seems to be the perfect guy: hot, intelligent, loyal, charismatic, and kind. And, oh, so sardonic.

 _Then why does she feel that there is more to Nik then it seems?_

It appears that all her perfect guys, especially if they're interested in her of all women, come with a major catch.

* * *

 _Awake, sweetheart?_

 **Yeah. Can't sleep?**

 _Of course._

 **Why?**

 _I've been up all-night thinking. Tomorrow's my birthday._

 **Oh. That's amazing. Are you celebrating?**

 _My birthday?_

 **Yeah. I plan a killer-ass party, ya know, being part of an event-planning company.**

 _And invite whom, sweetheart? You, me, and the old man across the hall? I don't have many friends besides you._

 **Me neither. You are my closest friend in this damn city, and I've known you for less than half the time I've been here.**

 _We are both isolated in a sea of millions of humans._

 **Eloquently put.**

...

 **Thank you.**

 _For what?_

 **For bringing me food.**

 _You're welcome, sweetheart. I was merely concerned about your health._

 **Thank you. No one had ever really done that much for me outside of my family.**

 _You don't talk about them much._

 **Sensitive subject.**

 _Of course._

 **I gotta go. Good night.**

 _Good night, Caroline._

* * *

As Nik rolls to lay on his back, the obtrusive sunlight streams into his face from the large window across the room. He grumbles groggily before trailing his elegant hand over his face to block the light.

Unsuccessful, he props himself upwards against the headboard with a grunt and slides to his feet, padding to his shabby bathroom.

In the chipped and scratched mirror, he examines himself thoroughly to spot any signs of aging. Nik's hair is a riotous, sleepy mess, there are dark shadows under his striking blue eyes, and he has clearly grown slightly skinnier.

It has been ten months since he turned human and was forced to flee New Orleans.

It has been two months since his beloved Bekah's birthday, the one that was supposed to be her twentieth. Four months ago, Elijah would have turned thirty-two. Kol should have been turning twenty-two in two months; Finn would have been thirty-three in another two months _if the bastard Lucien hadn't killed him._

 _Henrik was merely months from his sixteenth birthday when he died._

Freya turned twenty-four last months, though she should have been thirty-four. Dahlia's spell had altered her age indefinitely.

 _Hope turned four two weeks ago._

Nik Klaus, that is who he is at the present moment. Not Caroline's Nik but Klaus Mikaelson, the Original Hybrid. He is too tied to this day to be anyone else.

It is his birthday, his twenty-seventh to be exact.

 _Today is the first time he turns a year older in a thousand years._

Klaus glances down to find his hands trembling as he grips the sink with so much force that his knuckles turn white. He scoffs bitterly as anger swells inside of him.

 _Pathetic,_ he thinks resentfully. _Afraid. Afraid of what? Being mortal?_

His eyes meet their reflection in the mirror, shadowed and darkened by miserable emotions. His mouth has curved into a hardened grimace.

 _Weak. Pathetic. Bastard._

Strangely enough, the voice in his head transforms into Mikael's.

Even dead two years, his step-father will not cease haunting and patronizing him.

 _Weak pathetic bastard. Even as the most powerful creature on this planet, you still remained impulsive and foolish. You were overtaken by a former peasant, a servant. You bring death to everyone you love, including your precious no-longer human bartender. You are nothing, my boy. Nothing but an insignificant, undesirable bastard with diluted blood flowing through your muddy veins. Yet still you tote the honorable Mikaelson family name, diluting it with your filthy misdeeds._

Klaus _slams_ his palms against the stiff marble of the shitty counter, stifling agony shooting up both his arms. "You are dead! You are dead!" Swiftly, he storms out of the bathroom and into his closet, snatching an unopened bottle of bourbon and tearing the seal off. He pours a generous amount down his throat, ignoring the harsh bite of the alcohol as it slides to fill his empty stomach. "You are dead, you ungrateful son of a bitch! I stabbed the White Oak stake through your unloving heart. I watched your miserable body desiccate and turn to ash. I _fucking_ felt your heart stutter to a stop under my hands." His words come out with a shaky hesitance, and it motivates him to take a larger swig from the bottle, liquid sloshing over the sides as he does so. Klaus feels slightly buzzed, his mind relaxing and body becoming heavy.

 _No, boy._

The subconscious reply startles him, the words searing themselves into his pitiful brain.

 _No, no, no, my boy. You shall never leave me behind. I am a part of you. I am not Mikael. I am you. I am your true self._

As if to prove a point, his subconscious voice becomes Elijah's, then Rebekah's, then Freya's, and even Hayley's.

 _I am you._

"Leave me, damn you!" Klaus roars, undistinguishable emotions thick in his voice, smashing the half-empty bottle to the ground.

It shatters into several glass pieces, and liquor spills on the floor.

Realizing his mistake, he drops to his knees and attempts to mop the liquor with his hands. The shards slice his palms, scarring them bloody, and the bourbon intensifies the torment with a sting. He curses under his breath and abandons the mess, hobbling to his kitchen and retrieving his second bottle, this of whiskey.

Wiping his crimson-soaked hands down his white cotton shirt, leaving strikes of blood stains, he settles onto his couch, tearing the seal off with his teeth, his hands being too sensitive.

"Leave me be," Klaus whispers miserably to the mouth of the bottle.

Then he tips the bottle back, drinking himself into a hollow stupor in a half-heartened attempt to cast his inner demons away.

* * *

She knocks once on the door, and to her bewilderment, it swings open. "Huh?" she mutters quietly to herself. Striding in, she glances around, calling, "Nik, Nik? Nik? Where are you? It's your birthday."

He's over by the couch, slumbering lightly but wakes up when she places a gentle hand on his shoulder and shakes him. "Caroline?" Nik groans in disorientation, accent distorted by the severe slurring of his words. He gazes with blurry eyes at the tidily-wrapped gift held tightly in Caroline's grasp.

She leans in to take a quick sniff of his breath and nearly recoils in disgust.

Yup, definitely drunk off his ass.

"What're 'ou doin' here, 'eet'eart?" he asks, _or attempts to._

"Speak properly," she orders harshly in disgust.

Nik pulls himself together at her tone, his posture becoming defensive as his eyes harden. "What are you doing here, sweetheart?" he asks a little more clearly, an edge to his tone.

"It's your birthday!" Caroline cries in frustration. "Why are you drunk?"

"Having a life crisis," he replies incoherently.

"Huh?"

"Take a seat, sweetheart. This will take a while." Nik pats the seat beside him.

He appears miserable, unlike she has ever seen him before. There is scarce emotion in his eyes, and it scares here.

Caroline is a problem-solver, though, and she will not back down.

But taking one look at Nik unnerves her. _This may be one too big of a problem for her to solve._

"Join me," he repeats, taking a swig from his near-empty bottle.

Caroline shrugs helplessly before taking a seat next to him, their thighs pressed together as she attempts not to shiver.

 _If you can't beat them, join them._

* * *

Caroline tips back one shot, then another and another. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her hair tossing about inelegantly. After refilling her glasses and Nik's, she drops the bottle to the shitty kitchen table with a sudden clink and inquires, "What's your deal anyway? With the shitty birthday celebration, ya know?" drunkenly.

He shakes his head in rejection. "Trust me, love. You won't be wanting to know. Long story, longer than you can ever believe possible."

"Try me." Caroline clinks one of her glasses to his in mock celebration before draining it. Her brain is fuzzy, as it her vision, and her body feels a bit numb, not in a weighed-down way, but in a way of freedom. "I can believe almost anything."

"No, love. You're better off." Nik drains his last shot glass empty and shakes the bottle. Also empty. "Let me get another bottle, and then you will tell me what you are doing in this city. Your life, your family, etcetera."

When he returns, plunking two bottles on the scarred wooden table, she grabs one and presses its cool surface to her cheek, sighing in relief. "I shouldn't."

"Tell me," he coaxes, almost angelic in looks but with a devilish smile splitting his countenance. "Darling, tell me."

Caroline giggles, unaware of her own facilities anymore. She is drunk, and she is on her way to getting drunker. That's all she currently cares for. "You've never called me _dawling_ ," she imitates Nik's accent, stretching _darling_ for longer than necessary.

Nik grimaces. "Your accent truly is a fucking menace. Remind me to teach you one day."

" _Remind me to teach you one day_ ," Caroline mocks in her falsetto accent. "Why'd you call me darling anyway?"

"Habit from my brother, love."

Her mouth gapes immediately. "You have a brother?"

"Several actually," he murmurs darkly.

Seems he and his brothers do not get along.

"Don't get me wrong," Nik acknowledges. "My brothers burn the heart out of me, but I love them, all my siblings."

"Huh?" She must have said the last sentence out loud for him to explain about his siblings. "Tell me more!"

"No, love. I believe this is your turn." His lips are white, pressed tightly together.

He doesn't want to spill anymore about his life, she realizes.

"Not much to tell anyway. Grew up in a small town in the South to parents whose ancestors had practically founded the town. You can probably imagine how that was." She turns to glances at Nik who shrugs nonchalantly.

"When I was twelve, my parents divorced. Because of my dad."

Nik holds a finger up to interrupt. "Ooh, he didn't love her; he loved another woman."

"Close." Caroline laughs abruptly. "Another man," she explains. "He was gay."

"Oh." Nik appears full invested now, leaning on the edge of his seat to shift closer to Caroline. "Go on."

She swats the back of his head, unsure if the darkening of his eyes when he receives the blow is due to anger or something else. "Let me tell you. Right, so my parents divorced. I was the aim of the case; which parent would get custody of me?"

"And," Nik drawls impatiently.

"Surprise, surprise. It was Dad. So we move to Georgia to live with his boyfriend Steven and Steven's daughters Maxine and Marie. Who were actually not total bitches. Hurrah for that!" Caroline crows cheerfully, her emotions in disastrous shape at the current moment. "I haven't been to see my mom in eleven years, aside from visits occasionally. Now, you tell me."

Nik presses his lips together with extreme force again. He truly is determined not to tell her anything.

Too bad. The liquor has already loosened his lips, and she has other ways.

Caroline tugs the neckline of her low-cut blouse even more in a casual motion that seems unintentional, revealing a large amount of chest.

Immediately and predictably (Nik may have phenomenal control, _and she's certainly looking forward to that in bed eventually_ , but he is still a man), Nik's striking eyes are drawn to her cleavage, and he licks his crimson lips out of habit.

Caroline squirms, her cheeks blushing all of a sudden. Seems that her plan had an unwarranted effect on her too.

Still, it works as Nik sighs and drops all his shot glasses to the table. "My life is in fucking pieces now."

"How?" Her expression is bright-eyed, induced by alcohol though, and curious.

"I lived in New Orleans, sweetheart. My family, at least I, I fucking ruled the city."

"What about the mayor?" Caroline asks innocently enough, now truly intrigued.

"He was useless, that's what he was," Nik mutters below his breath, not realizing that Caroline can in fact hear him. "I ruled the city until an enemy who was once a brother to me decided to get revenge for something petty."

"Wait, what?" Caroline finds herself quickly sobering. "Like life or death revenge?" she squawks in alarm, glancing on in concern until Nik supplies her with more alcohol.

"He came after my family. He killed my older brother Finn. He threatened my sister Freya. He _separated me from my daughter Hope_." Nik is growling now, planting his palms on the table with a bang. "He drove me away from the city so that my family would remain safe."

Icy water washes over Caroline. _He has a daughter? Of course he has._ "What about your wife?" she inquires nonchalantly.

Nik is bewildered. "Who?"

"Hope's mother," Caroline clarifies, bitter edge coming to her voice. She would not want the girl to grow up alone. "Is she fine?" She doesn't care that he has a daughter; in her eyes, it makes him a thousand times sexier.

"Hayley and I would love to get rid of each other, but we keep her around. She's a good mother to Hope. Nothing else." Nik chuckles like it is hilarious. "I despise her on anything other than the rare occasion. Why?" He bumps her with her shoulder. "Jealous?"

Caroline attempts to keep herself from snapping back at him. "Rooted in my past. Personal problems."

"Me too, love." He sloshes back another glass; she thinks he's had enough, especially when he spills this other titbit: "My father was abusive. He ruined me, even before he found out that I wasn't his biologically."

"Ouch, tough." She winces. If she were not drunk, she would be confronting Nik and comforting him. But she is drunk. "I did not really have daddy issues. I have mommy issues. What's your relationship with your dad now?"

"I put him down." Nik's charmingly roguish grin is gone. There appears to be malice in his eyes one moment, gone the next.

Caroline blinks slowly, sure she is hallucinating. "Wait, what?"

" _I put him down_ ," Nik repeats with more ferocity. "That's all you need to know."

Caroline opens her mouth boldly, blurting out, "I'm insecure. I'm always insecure. If I wasn't drunk, I would probably be sobbing now over that fact you have a daughter."

He takes a wild glance at her. "Truly?"

"You never know." She shrugs causally. "But I was a people-pleaser as a teenager. I was a mess. I slept around. No one ever wanted me."

At this causal declaration, Nik's eyes narrow, though his eyes are darkening in lust. Warmth pools from his newly-returned suave grin. "That cannot be true," he says offhandedly.

"Trust me." She is leaning closer to Nik until their faces are inches apart. One more shift forward and her lips will brush against his.

She takes that leap and presses her lips to his. His lips are cold and chapped but still soft and velvety.

Slowly, he begins to respond to the kiss, and Caroline sighs in relief.

Their kisses are full of tender love but also passion. Nik bites her lip as he strokes her face with his gentle thumb. She tugs at his curls brutally while sucking his bottom lip between hers with care.

Eventually, they make it to his bedroom, clothes abandoned, where they collapse onto the bed, it groaning under their combined weight.

* * *

As they bask in their post-sex afterglow, limp and pliant and sweaty, Nik watches Caroline falls asleep.

She's bathed in sunlight, and her body is luminous and perfect, and _she looks like the goddess he knows she is._

Her breasts are uneven, one larger than the other. She has scars littering her body from cheerleading. Her stomach is lightly muscled, though not perfectly slender, is slightly lumpy and soft and curvy.

But she is confident in her body, and she moves with the grace and elegance of a lioness.

 _He loves that about her._

Staring at her, sunshine hair splayed over his spare pillow, arms dangling off the bed, nose wrinkled in a perpetual sense, it finally hits Nik.

 _Nik is already in love with her._

Klaus is falling into the pit with Nik.

Sensing his uneven breathing, Caroline turns to her side and faces Nik, azure eyes blinking sleepily as she says earnestly, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

For moments, Nik does not respond, gives no reply. He lies, _frozen heart dripping in the heat of the emotion_.

"Nik?" Caroline whispers uncertainly. She seems to shrink a little into herself.

Finally, Nik shifts forward, gathering Caroline in his arms, and brushing his lips against hers in a tender and beautiful vow.

* * *

Interlude:

 _Our hero has met his heroine and is in love with her. But, this story has a twist. It's not over soon. It won't be._

* * *

 _Four months later_

There is a knock at the door, swift and demanding. It echoes around the tiny apartment that both she and Nik share and finally dies down.

Caroline pushes herself up from planning a wedding for two insistent clients and wraps her work up momentarily to go answer the door.

And what a mistake that turns out to be.

"Hello?" Caroline calls as she tugs the door open. "Anyone there?" Her voice is thick with confusion as she shrugs the knock off as a possible bump on the table. She moves to shut it.

But there is a sudden gust of air in front of the door, knocking it open even wider before it shuts with a loud slam and blowing chunks of blonde hair around her face. Caroline turns with the force of the wind stream, brushing frizzy locks back and tucking them behind her ears.

"Hello there, darling."

Suddenly, there is a handsome but cruel-eyed dark-haired man standing inches away from her.

Caroline recoils backwards, gasping loudly and glancing around in a wild panic. "Who are you?" she demands. "How did you get in here?" Flailing behind her, her hands latch on to the wooden table, and she grips the edge with trembling arms.

"Surprise: your landlord owns the building and still has some reign over this apartment." The man flares his nostrils as he speaks with a wicked grin. "He invited me in, darling."

Something about his accent and the use of the word _darling_ niggles something in the back of Caroline's brain, a conversation about Nik's family.

"Are you Kol?" Caroline asks quietly.

"What?" The man is taken aback. "Oh, no, no, darling. I am a thousand times worse than that blood lusting fool." He chuckles, somehow finding Caroline's question hilarious, and the sound reverberates around the room while Caroline winces. "So you know the Original family. That makes you a pesky little mortal problem."

"The what?" Her heart stutters, and her eyes widen as suddenly the man is in front of her, his hand stroking the side of her neck. Caroline's eyes cannot comprehend how quickly he moved.

The man chooses not to reply, his hand instead drifting gently to caress her throat. Thinking that he will attempt to choke her, Caroline struggles feebly, her strength waning under his murderous stare, until an iron hand comes to clench her other shoulder.

With the hand on her throat, he reaches for her throat until his hand closes around the gold chain of a necklace Caroline's wearing. The man swears while Caroline hears a hissing sound, and he releases the necklace quickly, though still latching on to Caroline.

She thinks that she sees oozing burns on the man's palms as his hands travel away from her necklace, but a moment later, there is smooth, tanned skin.

The necklace she is wearing is a gorgeous, hand-blown vial of almost unbreakable glass containing perfume. Wrapped in a coil of silver, it hangs on a fine chain. It was given to Caroline by Nik when they began dating, and she cherished it, wearing it every moment except while bathing.

"Who are you?" Caroline repeats, her voice falsely steady.

The little quaver in her voice seems to urge him on. "My name is Lucien, darling, and I'm the beast." With the swiftness and grace of a predator, Lucien lashes out and _crushes_ the silly glass bauble against her collarbone.

Caroline shrieks in agony, _pangs of twisted pain_ , as the glass shatters and little shards embed themselves in her skin, slicing the ivory apart in jagged gashes. Blood, _her blood_ , seeps out, and whilst Caroline shudders, repulsed and still clutching at her collarbone as she attempts shy away and out of the apartment, Lucien's eyes darken.

They turn red, _eyes rushing to be filled with blood as something ripples between his skin._

But Caroline blinks, and his face is normal, his eyes brown but pinning her own azure. As his eyes dilate, she feels herself take a step back as fog separates her mind from her physical body.

"Tell me, darling. Where is Klaus?" Lucien orders nastily.

Caroline hears herself tell him that she doesn't know a Klaus.

Lucien growls threateningly, repeating with fervor. "Where is Klaus?" When she still does not react, he chuckles in realization. Caressing her chin tenderly, almost as a lover would, his tone changes, softer and more childish. "Where is Nik?"

"I don't know," she utters truthfully. "Nik has been gone all day; he's probably at the San Francisco Art Gallery."

His responding questions takes her aback. "Who are you, and what are you to Nik?"

The words leave her lips, but she is not the one saying them. _They are stolen from her voice_. "My name is Caroline Forbes, and I am Nik's girlfriend."

Lucien hums thoughtfully, focusing his gaze on the bloodstained carpet by his expensive leather boots. "Do you love him?"

"With all my heart."

"Good." Lucien nods in approval. "I can work with that." His eyes dilate again, and she falls deeper into his trance. "Now sleep."

 _Her body shuts down, crumpling to the floor, as he steps over her limp almost-corpse, dragging her out of the apartment as her body slides on the floor and over shards of glass._

* * *

Nik is strolling down the sidewalk in quick strides, impatient to hurry home to Caroline. He had finished his errands and could now spend the rest of their slow-moving Saturday in bed with his gorgeous girlfriend. His finger clench around the small box in his pocket, wondering whether she will love the ring.

His phone rings, and immediately, Nik fishes it out of his jacket, sliding the screen to answer, and holds it to his ears, not sparing a dismissive glance to examine the name.

But the cool, calm voice stops him in his tracks.

"Niklaus?"

"Elijah," Nik states with conflicted interest. "What is it?"

"Niklaus," Elijah says. "Niklaus, where are you?" The urgency in his older brother's voice is unnerving; despite not having seen his brother in a year, Nik has never heard him sound so, so _panicked._

"What's wrong, Elijah?" Nik asks with more urgency.

"Lucien finally found where you were. In the last week, he has been preparing to kill both you and us. Last night, his witches, urged by the Ancestors, kidnapped Kol where he slept in his bed with Davina in St. Anne's Church." Elijah's voice is trembling now. "Today, Rebekah's coffin went missing."

"What of Freya?" Nik's stomach plummets with each word he hears from Elijah, his heart beating rapidly. There is a tightening in his gut as he wrinkles his eyebrows in concern.

"Lucien will not touch her for some bizarre, twisted obsession he has for her. Aurora hates her though, with an intense dispassion, jealous of Freya's attention from Lucien. She attempted to slaughter her earlier this month but was stopped by Lucien. Freya, I, and some others are working to find a way to bring them down, but I fear I will be next, if he reaches you. I fear for our family."

Nik's mouth fills with an acerbic taste. "Where is Lucien? What is going on?"

Freya takes over the phone from Elijah. "Klaus, he is going to your residence first. Get out of there. Leave while you still can," she pleads, desperation in her wavering voice.

"Caroline," Nik mutters as he realizes where she is. "Caroline! Lucien will capture her!" He ignores his siblings' protests. "I will kill that bastard where he stands before he lays a hand on her!"

But there's a voice in his ear grounding out "Will you?" as he registers a pinch in his neck, his vision blurring, and tumbles to the ground, Elijah's voice still spilling from the speaker.

* * *

When Klaus comes to, he is strung up by his wrists, chained to the wall with links of iron. He struggles momentarily before realizing that it is pointless: he is mortal, and these chains are therefore unbreakable with his delicate human strength.

Instead, Klaus resigns himself to propping himself against the wall and surveying his surroundings hopefully for Caroline.

He is in a large, dank mausoleum, one that he recognizes from New Orleans. (Seems he ended back in the city either way.) There are sparse lamps swinging from the stone ceiling to fully illuminate the musty tomb, forcing his eyes to strain into the darkness.

From the sea of black comes a feeble rasp:

"Niklaus?"

It's Elijah, voice dry from disuse and most likely lack of blood.

"Elijah? Why are we back in New Orleans?" Klaus questions tiredly.

Immediately, there are two more adjoining voices.

"Nik?" a quiet and yet incredibly hopeful Rebekah asks.

"Brother?" Kol sounds bitter and harsh. "If you are here, what hope is there left?"

"Huhs, Kol," Elijah tells him with about as much authority as he can muster, but it is enough.

Rebekah begins to sob, her soft sniffles shattering Klaus' heart even more. _He can never see his delicate sister cry._ "I woke up," she blubbers gently. "Someone had pulled the dagger out, and I woke up here, to find Kol alive. Then Kol tells me that Finn was revived and killed in days, and you're human." There are probably tears streaming down her smooth cheeks, Klaus imagines. "This is the end, isn't it?"

 _No, dear Bekah,_ he aches to tell her, but there is the sound of stone shifting, and the dim lights flicker as the mausoleum flares with brightness.

Klaus can see his family chained across from him clearly.

The image is disheartening enough. Elijah, _bloody torn suit and hair askew._ Kol, _silent and stony pillar._ Rebekah, his strong devilish sister, _crumpled tiny and birdlike into Elijah_.

"Actually, childish Rebekah," Aurora says patronizingly, striding in with her head held high. "It is." She fixes Klaus with a disinterested stare, though her ocean eyes hold a spark of something hopeful. "It is your end. From now, a new reign of vampires will live."

"If you kill Rebekah," rasps Elijah desperately. "You shall die."

"Dear Elijah, I am no longer sired to baby Bekah, if you have not yet understood that. I am better; we are better." Aurora wraps an arm around Lucien who appears by her side.

Behind them spills out their vast army of witches and vampires that has Kol taking in shuddering breaths.

But Klaus' striking eyes are fixated on _her_ , on Caroline held in Lucien's grasp.

"Nik," Caroline breaths softly, unaware everyone in the tomb can hear her.

"Caroline," he calls to her, eyes assessing her to ensure she is unharmed, that the blood on her navy-blue dress is not hers.

"I'm fine," she answers his unasked question with tenderness.

"Oh, wonderful. Look at these two lovebirds," Aurora remarks coldly. _Klaus can pinpoint the burning rage, hatred at Caroline for being the object of his desires._

Lucien laughs fleetingly. "I found you after all, Nik," he crows with a smug smirk. "You gave me a difficult challenge for a year, but I caught up to you in the end. I will kill you then your siblings. But first, I will kill your love in front of you, allow her blood to spill at your feet." He turns to Aurora, asking conversationally, "Does she not resemble darling Camille?"

"She does," Aurora agrees with the smile of a viper. "You seem to have a type, Nik. Beautiful, bold, fiery. Like me, like Camille, and now your Caroline. _You ruin them. Your love ruins them_."

"So you chose him?" Caroline raises a judgmental, elegant eyebrow at the redhead. "You must be delusional. Lucien is clearly deranged. Though, examining Exhibit B, you may be crazier than him."

Klaus wants to scream at Caroline, shake sense into her. Speaking to Aurora like that, Aurora who is so easily unhinged. _But Caroline is a goddess, eyes burning azure flames, words set to strike._

"Shut it, mortal!" Aurora snaps, moving to strike Caroline.

Klaus lunges against his chains in desperation. "Don't!" he screams when they don't give way, struggling with all his strength.

But Lucien stops Aurora before she lays a hand on Caroline. "Don't, Rory," he tells her. "The mortal desires for you to rip her heart out. Her swift death will ensure that we cannot torture Klaus by torturing her. Clever, little girl."

Released by Lucien when he reached for Aurora, Caroline ducks behind him, sneaking to Klaus. She kneels down beside him and attempts to undo his chains.

"Sweetheart," Klaus sighs, tugging her closer to him. He raises one bound hand to trail it lovingly down the side of Caroline's heart-shaped, batter face. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she replies in confusion. Her beautiful eyes fill with confusion.

When Lucien grabs for Caroline, attempting to backhand her angrily, Klaus shoves Caroline behind him and takes the brunt of the blow. "Still hit like a servant," he snarls to Lucien as he spits blood to the floor. "That is all you will ever be, inferior to my family."

Klaus is all talk, having no advantage left over Lucien, Aurora, and their army, and Lucien is unaffected.

"Pathetic little mortal," Aurora croons, rolling her thumb over Klaus' lips as he glares at her with unadulterated rage. "My sweet, sweet love, you must die. For that, I am sorry." She stoops down and brushes her lips quickly against Klaus' before he can shy away. Straightening up, she moves to stand behind Lucien. "Kill him," she orders Lucien.

As Lucien moves to snap Klaus' neck, Caroline emerges from behind him, clutching something in her palm.

 _Glass,_ Klaus realizes.

With a grunt, she sinks her fist into Lucien's stomach, glass shard and all, and when he doubles over, she aims a kick to his stomach.

Klaus wrenches her backwards before Caroline does anything truly stupid.

Aurora remains unconcerned, because in the next moment, Lucien has healed, Caroline gaping in shock and surprise.

"Ugh," he groans. "That stung." He chuckles towards Caroline. "Fiery and beautiful. I believe we'll keep you around a while after Nik dies."

Swiftly, Lucien zooms to the human, and in moments, Klaus finds the vampire towering over him, eyes unable to comprehend Lucien's speed, while Caroline jolts in bewilderment.

"Remember this, Nik," Lucien whispers smoothly, his words reverberating clearly in Klaus' ears. He raises his voice so it echoes more loudly around the room, despite the fact that all the vampires can already hear him.

Lucien sets both hand gently on Klaus' shoulder, soft palms caressing the former hybrid's throat tenderly.

"This is how Klaus Mikaelson dies," Lucien states triumphantly, _wrenching_ his hands upwards, and watches how the human's body crumples to the floor, broken neck and dead.

* * *

Caroline screams in anguish as Nik's body crumples backwards into her arms. She cradles him bending over his body, and murmurs softly into his sandy curls. "I love you, I love you," she sobs, tears flowing quickly down her smooth cheeks.

There are cries of torment from the trio chained up across the mausoleum. The other, stunning blonde, sharing Nik's striking eyes, crumples in lament, crying, "Nik! No, no, no! Nik!" The two men who resembles Nik in features hold her close, jaws clenched and tears welling.

 _This is Nik's family_ occurs to Caroline. His brothers and his sisters who he apparently has not seen in over a year. _And now he's dead._

Her heart aches with sorrow, with rage, _with madness forged deep below the fires of hell._

With the madness that comes with loss of love.

"How dare you?" she screeches shrilly at Lucien through a storm of never-ending tears. "You are a cruel, inhuman beast."

Unaffected by her words, Lucien grins toothily. "Yes, darling. That's exactly what I am. A beast." He slings an arm around Aurora who is gazing with tormented eyes at Nik's body.

Aurora snaps out of her brief daze. "Brilliant," she purrs through crimson lips. "Now, we're the predators. You are the prey," she brags to Nik's siblings.

"Here's a challenge," Lucien explains, unable to contain his pride. "If you three can make it outside the gates of Lafayette Cemetery before we stop you, then you are free. No death will come to any of you."

Caroline sees Nik's oldest brother and sister exchanges glances, disbelief prominent in their eyes.

 _They must understand the chance they have to flee from this vile man._

Nik's body is heavy in her lap, his skin chilly against her own. His neck hangs limply, and Caroline holds it as if it is not broken.

"Now," Lucien declares.

At the signal of his fluttering hands, the chains preventing the trio from breaking free are cluttering to the ground. Immediately, the siblings disappear before Caroline's eyes.

She gapes. _Where did they go? They could not have moved that quickly?_

Then Caroline is being scooped up by the brother wearing a torn suit, Nik's body being carried by his sister.

They are moving, but _at what speed?_

The scenery blurs intangibly to Caroline's feeble eyes, all three siblings setting the same pace. Wind ruffles Caroline's frizzy hair, despite the fact that it is a humid summer day.

"I am Elijah. Kol is to your left, Rebekah to your right. I understand you meant the world to Niklaus," the man carrying her speaks rapidly to her.

Thrown of the archaic name _Niklaus_ , Caroline nods furiously, tears dried by the force of their movement. "Yes."  
"Immediately as we reached the gates, make your escape. Run to until you reach the nearest store and ask for Marcel Gerard." When Caroline protests, Elijah demands, "Ignore Niklaus' body. You must keep yourself alive. It is what Nik would want."

Caroline cannot argue with that.

Within moments, they reach the gates of the cemetery.

The gates are surrounded by an army, men and women scattered in strategic formations, Lucien and Aurora at the front.

There is no time to flee for Caroline is immediately seized by an unknown woman who has impossible strength for someone her size.

She is out of her depth here, surrounded by people with superhuman speed and strength, and though Caroline should have been freaking out, instead, she recalls something from her father, something about her birth town of Mystic Falls.

 _Something about the superhuman, something about the supernatural._

Rebekah drops Nik's body gently to the side, tucking him behind a marble tomb and resuming her position next to her brothers, her fists clenching, malice in her eyes _that are so like Nik's._

The siblings disappear again, and seconds later, there is a squelching sound, and a man is crumpled on the ground, bloody heart by his feet.

Caroline gags, her breathing coming shakily as she averts her eyes form the disgusting mess. Her gaze assesses the man's greying corpse, veins appearing. _What the hell?_

More men and women drop as more and more hearts are ripped out, as the siblings are seen as an occasional blur.

Caroline cringes but watches in confusion as Aurora and Lucien stand idly by, unconcerned.

But their demeanors are explained when the blurs solidify into Nik's siblings crying in pain, hands clutching their heads, as legions of men and women stand before them with outstretched arms.

Somehow those men and women are harming Elijah, Rebekah, and Kol.

"Stop!" Caroline yells worriedly. "You're hurting them." She struggles in her captor's iron-hold unsuccessfully.

No one pays her any attention. She is mortal; therefore, she is expendable.

But Caroline is the daughter of Liz Forbes, sheriff of Mystic Falls, and while she may not have met her mother in years, a lesson taught to her by Liz floats back.

 _If you are ever held in a threatening grip, make your body pliant. Pretend to be dead,_ Liz had said through grim lips when the news of a kidnapper at large had reached their town when Caroline was nine.

Now, she does exactly that.

Allowing her body to go limp, she relaxes her breathing for a few moments, as taught to her by her dad. Her captor must be stupider than Caroline thought, because she is dropped unceremonious to the ground in minutes.

Her back aches from the brief yet rough fall, but she lays there for a few moments and plots. She is merely feet away from the nearest _witch?_ and can reach him in minutes.

But she remains unarmed.

 _Caroline Forbes is a former cheerleader, a blonde who likes pretty dresses and heels._

Silently, she toes a heel off and shifts it around to clutch the shoe with the stiletto pointed outwards.

Still no one eyes her cautiously; they are too fixated on Lucien and Aurora boasting gleefully.

Morons.

 _Never underestimated a woman with revenge on her mind._

Caroline leaps from where she lies on the ground, using her flexibility from ten years of cheerleading and brute strength to knock the warlock to the ground, his concentration disrupted as his portion of the spell weakening.

She brings her knee up into the back of the second witch with extreme force and watches as the older woman crumples to the ground. Finally, Caroline uses her stiletto to stab it into another witch's eye. She wants to cringe but keeps going to break a warlock's arm.

"Let me go!" Caroline screeches as she is wrenched backwards by a man, one of the ones with superhuman strength. She brandishes her heel blindly, unable to hit a mark.

The spell on Nik's siblings, though, had already been weakened enough, and they lunge towards the witches and other men and women, slaughtering their way around.

Aurora is brought down onto her knees by a woman around Caroline's age chanting in an identifiable language. The redhead is shrieking in agony as the witch, resembling Rebekah and Nik with the same eyes and hair, snaps Aurora's wrists with magic.

There are more people suddenly, men and women fighting Lucien and Aurora's army.

A dark-skinned warlock with a severe expression is magically ripping out hearts while another handsome man with mocha skin is leading a legion of men and women against the other army, breaking necks and _hearts falling by their feet._

How quickly Caroline has become accustomed to this violence?

A beautiful teenage girl with dark hair and a proud mouth rushes to Kol, levitating people backwards if they attempt to attack her. A blonde who suspiciously resembles Caroline finds Nik's body, and her lips quiver with grief as she turns to throw something small and wooden at a horde of people stampeding towards her.

The item explodes into a cloud of smoke, and the men and women are scattered backwards, knocked unsconsciouc.

There is a gorgeous brunette who-

Caroline gasps, alarmed, as the girl's face transforms, eyes turning golden and _fangs!_ dropping. There are veins crawling between the brunette's eyes like spiders.

The girl launches herself at the other men and women with a hiss. Their faces too have transformed; they possess black eyes filled with blood, unlike the girl's golden.

Vampires, Caroline realizes with a start. _Vampires._

"What to do with you, my dear?" Lucien, suddenly clutching her neck, asks.

"Not kill me," Caroline snarls in reply, chucking her shoe at his head.

Lucien dodges it, but his face transforms, veins rising from his neck to snake under his eyes, fangs larger than the rest of the vampires, eyes pure red. He rears his head to sink his fangs into Caroline's tender neck.

"NO!" someone familiar roars as Lucien is knocked backwards. "I will end you where you stand, you bastard."

 _Then all hell breaks loose._

She blacks out for most of the battle.

Caroline's eyes cannot perceive or her mind cannot picture what exactly went down, but when it is over, there is silence.

And Caroline braves herself to look again.

In the middle of debris, useless appendages, and gore, _there is Nik._

Nik, alive.

Nik, standing and breathing.

 _Nik with golden eyes flashing, red and black veins a writhing mess below his eyes, pearly-white gleaming fangs dropping from his beautiful lips._

 _Nik slathered in crimson, snarling, a monster on display._

This is not Nik. This is a monster.

There is a storm of turbulent emotions in his _cruel cruel cold eyes. Lips in a devilish smirk._

This is not Nik.

The man notices her eyes boring into his skin, and his face becomes human, and there is Nik, striking eyes full of relief, lips curving into a Nik-like smile.

"Caroline," he calls to her with a soft tone. "Caroline."

His allies stare at him in shock, unbelieving eyes watching their exchange with suspicion. The other blonde's lips pursue into a perpetual frown.

"Nik!" Caroline reaches a hand towards him.

Nik takes a step to speed to her.

But Caroline feels two hands enclose her neck, and

 _they twist._

 _And her heart stops mid-beat._

* * *

"No!" Klaus roars as Lucien snaps his beautiful Caroline's neck. Klaus, body trembling with uncontrollable rage, moves to attack Lucien, but Freya beats him to it.

"Fuck you, Lucien," she tells him, Kol-worthy smirk spreading across her lips, and pulls a wicked knife out, tips gleaming in the summer sun.

Lucien's eyes widen in understanding. "No, darling," he says hastily. "No need for that-"

Freya stabs herself in the heart as Lucien is mid-sentence, crumpling sideways and bleeding out in minutes while Lucien desiccates.

Klaus watches unconcerned for a moment as Elijah lifts their sister's body in his arms, knowing that she will indeed come back to life. His gaze turns sober as he examines his girlfriend's body in his arms, Caroline turning lifeless and cold.

"Klaus." It is Camille, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "How are you alive?"

"Yes, Nik," Kol agrees seriously. "How are you still alive? The bastard snapped your bloody neck."

But Klaus is smiling so widely, _his heart might split_. He has spotted the patch of broken skin at Caroline's neck, glass still yet embedded there, and he realizes, _Everything is fine._

 _Everything will be alright._

* * *

Freya runs a hand through her limp hair, newly revived. "I do not know truly how you came back to life, Klaus. I do not know."

Davina speaks quietly, "It may have been the Ancestors. Only they can perform miracles such as this."

"Lucien and Aurora were defeated," Elijah states, "Because Freya took advantage of their link to her blood. Niklaus may have come back to life, but that, in itself, is unexplainable for now."

Klaus ignores their talk, instead slipping the box out of his pocket. "Freya, my dear. I require you to enchant this ring with a daylight spell." He snaps the box open to reveal a stunning band of silver set with fragments of lapis lazuli.

"For who?" Freya question, confusion evident in her eyes.

"For Caroline," Klaus replies offhandedly.

"But Klaus," Camille interrupts in a bitter and condescending tone. "She is dead."

He laughs silently to himself.

 _Vampirism ruined Camille. He can no longer see the woman that he could have fallen in love with._

 _Caroline will thrive under vampirism, so strong and so luminous._

"She is in transition. Caroline wore a vial full of the last dredges of vampire blood I possessed. I gave it to her, telling her to crush it if in life-threatening danger. Seems Lucien did that instead. When the glass sliced her skin, Caroline absorbed a few drops of vampire blood, enough for her to come back," Klaus explains, devious smirk and shadowed eyes reflecting his cunning.

"Do you love her?" Rebekah asks quietly.

"With my life."

* * *

Klaus perches in the chair next to his opulent bed, gazing carefully as Caroline as she slumbers serenely.

She will awaken soon.

 _She will awaken soon, and she will be better, more powerful._

 _She will be a queen, his queen, a true goddess._

 _And they will rule New Orleans side-by-side, crushing their opponents and taking the city by storm._

It is time.

Caroline startles awake with a shaky sigh and immediately eyes Klaus. "Nik?" she whispers, beautiful eyes full of turmoil.

"Yes, my love. Yes. It is indeed me." Klaus strokes Caroline's damp blond hair reassuringly. "I will explain everything. But first, I need you to drink this."

* * *

 **Reviews make the world go round.**


	4. Life and Life Again

**Day Three of KC AU Week.**

 **Adversaries...**

* * *

When Klaus Mikaelson first hears about the newest doppelganger, he is astonished. Those Petrova doppelgangers really are cockroaches, aren't they? They are completely unable to stop clinging to the barest of life, only to then survive _and have children!_

No wonder the Mikaelsons, _except Elijah, of course,_ hate the whole lot of them. Even Death is no obstacle for them.

So he boards his plane, flies into Richmond, and drives his rental SUV down to Whitmore College, passing the place of his birth and childhood.

How ironic is it that he is returning there to collect the doppelganger who is from Mystic Falls, the place _his_ Tatia died to bind his werewolf side? The place his mother cast the spell that turned he and his siblings into eternal creatures of the night? The place where Niklaus died and Klaus was born?

Klaus does not do well to dwell on his past. Instead, he thinks of his coming plans.

The doppelganger was orphaned at the tender age of sixteen, her parents, only brother, and aunt going drowning in the river after their car went overboard one tragic night.

She has no family to speak of now except for distant Gilberts in Denver, Colorado. Klaus has heard rumors of an estranged paternal uncle who hunted vampires with a magic revival ring but met a nasty death at the hands of a Ripper.

Little Elena Gilbert lives in an apartment on the campus of Whitmore with an ordinary mortal friend and is incredibly isolated.

Hence, Klaus believes that this study be an easy, slightly more advanced, snatch-and-erase. Grab the doppelganger, and send in some of his minions and witch allies to compel and erase all traces of her existence away.

No need for it to get messy.

* * *

Klaus Mikaelson finds himself in front of a drab apartment door painted a stained white. The condition of the door proclaims that the inside of the apartment will be as equally dull and shabby as the door.

He knocks in two quick successions, the door's hollow wood splintering under the force of his blows. He waits patiently, keep count of the moments that tick by before there is sound on the other side of the door of footsteps approaching with the click-clack of heeled shoes.

"Who is it?" a feminine voice calls cautiously, one that definitely does not belong to a Petrova doppelganger.

"Hey," Klaus responds in a gruff Midwestern accent, his voice flowing smoothly despite the unfamiliar accent. "I'm from Student Housing. They sent me to check up on the residents of this apartment, something about a surprise house check. Is an Elena Gilbert there? The residence is registered under her name."

There is a stark pause as Klaus wonders if he said something inaccurate and will now have to force his way in. That would become a little more complicated than he'd like.

"Actually," the voice comments coolly. "The apartment is leased under my name." Despite that, the door is opened anyway by a girl of roughly twenty years.

Klaus surveys her attentively for a moment before turning his focus to the living room of the apartment.

She is pretty in a forgettable type of way; if you are not staring her in the flesh, she will fade from your mind. Pale gold hair that falls in loose curls, azure blue eyes, and smooth ivory skin. Slim and petite.

But his gaze passes over her, and soon she is forgotten.

"Can I help you?" she asks in irritation, most likely wondering what a man in his mid-twenties is doing on a college campus.

Klaus lets his natural accent fall through. "Invite me in, sweetheart," he orders briskly as his dark blue eyes hold hers in a magnetic stare, her pupils dilating as she falls under his compulsion.

"Come on in," she repeats dully, robotically.

"Care?" comes a voice from behind the girl, _the doppelganger's voice_. The newest carbon copy emerges from a hallway, appearing into the view of the living room and in the view of Klaus. She is exactly alike to her successors, flawless olive skin, dark curtain of hair, doe eyes that blink innocently in confusion. "Caroline? Who's at the door?"

"Some guy from Housing," the girl, Caroline, says, regaining some of her former coolness.

"Miss Gilbert," Klaus parries effortlessly as he steps over the threshold and into the apartment. "I would like to talk to you about your major, Pre-Med, I believe. Housing would like to relocate you closer to the hospital where you intern."

"Okay?" Little Elena Gilbert replies hesitantly, her hair falling into her face until an elegant hand brushes some thick locks away.

He takes another step closer to her, his eyes dilating in compulsion as he begins to order, "You are to come with me without complaint. You will remain calm and obedient-" Klaus falters when an incisive stab of agony pierces his body, right where his heart is. He glances down to a thin wooden stake penetrating his heart cleanly as he falls onto his knees with a grunt.

Elena screams in apprehension as Klaus finally hits the ground with a thud, body lying limp as the paralysis overtakes his lower half.

There is the motion of someone climbing over him, and when Caroline squats besides him, eyes blazing, he realizes that he has overlooked the girl.

"Newsflash, asshole!" she states spunkily. "I can't be compelled."

Klaus gazes up at her in apprehensive, gasping, "Who are you?"

"I hunt monsters like you," she growls as his vision darkens.

* * *

He stirs back into the land of the living silently as conversation filters into his ears.

"I told you, Elena. Vampires are real, and they will murder us ruthlessly, without a batting an eye. Did you not see that asshole? He would have taken you away if I hadn't killed him!" Caroline explains passionately.

"I understand, Care," Elena responds warily. "But what do we do with his body? I don't want it rotting on our couch."

"We burn it!" Caroline declares. "We wait for nightfall, and then we burn his body in the woods."

Elena sighs impatiently. "Can we at least move him off the couch or something?"

"Fine," Caroline agrees decisively.

Klaus' eyes snap open at the sound of coming footsteps, and he flashes into the corner in a blurry streak.

"Where did his body go?" Caroline demands in shock. "Where did he go, Elena? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything, Caroline," the doppelganger states in false calm, though Klaus can pick up on her heart beat racing unusually in panic.

"Then where did he go?" Caroline repeats a bit more harshly, exclaiming, "Dead bodies don't just stand up and stumble away!"

Elena gasps.

"No, they don't," Klaus agrees as he seizes Caroline by her neck, pulling her into him, back to chest. "Don't you agree, sweetheart?"

She stiffens immediately, not even bothering to struggle against what she knows will be a grip of iron. "I killed you," she states plainly. "You were dead."

"A simple stake will not kill me, sweetheart." He gazes upon her in open amusement. "It did pinch if that gives you satisfaction."

Now, she shoves against his hands for a brief movement, the feel of her body against his doing wonders for his arousal. Caroline relaxes against his chest mere second later in defeat, inquiring, "What kind of monster are you, anyway?"

"A monster that cannot be killed by the likes of you." Klaus' head snaps to the door. "Uh, uh, uh, Elena love. If you attempt to escape, I will snap your little friend's neck."

"That won't kill me," Caroline snarks brazenly.

"I will feed her my blood beforehand," he threatens, steel edge to his voice.

Elena freezes in her tracks from where she was attempting to flee out the open apartment door, fearful under the spotlight of Klaus' vigilant gaze. She eventually drifts closer inside the living room, eyeing Caroline with concern.

"I have plans for you, my dear," he tells the doppelganger soberly who pales considerably.

"I will never let you take her!" Caroline cries confidentially.

"Feeble words, sweetheart." He strokes an elegant hand tenderly down Caroline's smooth, rounded cheek. Klaus whirls her around to face him, reassessing her attentively.

Her hair shines sunshine gold under the streaming light of the midday sun. Her eyes have taken on a whole new persona. They blaze blue flames with ferocity, anger, hatred, and a hint of fear.

 _Fear_. Klaus smirks proudly. He loves fear in his victims. "Such fire. Such fire in you, love. It would be a shame to let it burn out as a mortal life," he laments to Caroline who glares at him mutely.

Under Elena's silent rapt attention, he tears into his wrist, flesh crumbling as blood oozes to the surface of his skin. Klaus holds his wrist forcefully to Caroline's lips and pinches her nostrils shut.

Despite her struggles, she is forced eventually to breath in with her mouth and unintentionally swallow some of his thick blood.

Klaus releases her and steps back, eyeing the crimson smears around her pink lips. "Vampirism will suit you," he tells her as his hands enclose around her throat, her hateful azure gaze burned into his memory forever. Elena screams shrilly in horror as there is a crunch when Caroline's neck snaps and tumbles to the floor lifelessly.

* * *

 **Reviews give this writer fuel.**


	5. The Healed Heart Shows Its Shallow Scar

**For Day Four of Klaroline AU Week, AU: Time Shift.**

 **Enjoy.**

* * *

 **The human psyche is an extraordinary presence with just one major flaw:**

 **Their empathy.**

 **Human emotions are pesky little sensations. Without them, humans are remarkable creatures capable of greatness, of revolutionizing our quaint bubble of universe. They are capable of becoming faster, stronger, smarter …better…evolving on their own without any aid by nature. Humans are gifted with an amazing perception of the world, better known as 'common sense.' Nevertheless, there is still the rather large obstacle obstructing humans from fulfilling their potential: our humanity. Awareness of the chemical reactions in the human brain: elation, courage, compassion, pleasure, love, melancholy, rage, misery, remorse, envy…. All are fatal. Life itself would improve so, so much if there is one simple switch to numb everything out. To never let the human psyche empathize again.**

 **-Dr. Wes Maxfield, _The Journal of Life_ , 1944**

* * *

An explosion of pain spreading through his right shoulder.

The burst of scarlet dampening his starched white shirt, bright and alarming.

White spots dancing across his darkening vision as shock hits.

The rate of his beating heart spiking violently.

Breaths escaping him in short, sputtering gasps as the back of his throat begins to choke up.

Tendrils of panic gripping his body, his blood chilling and his body freezing in terror.

* * *

"Mr. Mikaelson, tell me truthfully: are your nightmares getting any better?"

"Yes, sir."

The elder man sighs. Pushes the frame of his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Tugs at the fraying sleeves of his white coat. Stands up and paces the width of the room. "Klaus, how long has it been since you have been coming to me? Nine months? A year and a half? This month alone you have come to me at least four times. Now, tell me again: are your nightmares getting any better?"

"No, sir. They are not getting any better."

"In previous sessions, you have recalled that most of your nightmares have been influenced by your experiences of the War. Every soldier experiences the same struggle of attempting to normalize himself, pretend that there is no war. They all suffer through the shock, the trauma…" the doctor hesitates, glancing at his patient. "You are still not convinced of how this knowledge will help you specifically."

"What? No…. I never said a word…" the patient sputters, taken aback at the abruptness of the doctor.

"You do not have to say a word. You are a very open book; I can read it upon your face." He runs a hand over the stiff folds of his coat, patting down the nonexistent creases. "Klaus, I have known you since you are a young boy. You have always been a very expressive, a very emotional individual." The doctor pivots to face Klaus, a weary frown marking his features. "Your mother was the same."

Klaus rakes a fair-skinned hand through his disheveled hair, causing dirty blond curls to droop against his forehead. He smiles half-heartedly, making no effort to tidy up his hair. "What was it like for you, Uncle? When you returned from the first War?" he inquires feebly.

"It was also very difficult for me…but the reactions, Klaus, the reactions vary for everyone. It is true that war, that violence, has a devastating effect on all men, but the all men are different in mind and in body. Take my example: I was a very daring and very restless youth before the War. War taught me patience, the most important trait that I try to imagine I possess. Several of my former fellow soldiers believe that the aftermath of war can be more destructive to an individual than war itself." The doctor returns to pacing alongside the length of his desk, his tone becoming more and more agitated as he comes to a halt, clutching the edge of his chair. He stares dejectedly at his nephew, speaking up once more. "You have always been too open, too expressive, too empathetic! All of your emotions ae battling to overpower each other. Your guilt at your helplessness with the unfortunate soldiers. Your loneliness and despair. Your misery. It is all eating you alive, destroying you while your family stand by and watch powerlessly."

Klaus murmurs in dismay, rubbing at the bags under his eyes until the skin became red and irritated. His clothing is unkempt, and ink stains his skin. There are bits of food stuck in his nailbeds.

"I cannot hear you…" the other man trails off inaudibly, unsure of how to respond to his nephew's despair.

"What family? That is what I said. What family do I have? My father and mother, your only sister, died when I had barely become a legal adult and left me with a sister with whom I share only half my father's blood! And she too was married off within a year of when I learned of her existence!" Klaus takes a few calming breaths before continuing. "You are my only family, Uncle Alaric, and I only see you as a doctor due to your jam-packed schedules." His bloodshot, blue-eyed gaze flickers wildly around the room.

Alaric lets out a long, tense sigh. "I have known many former soldiers similar to you. They cannot adjust back into society, and many of them ending up wasting their lives away with a bottle. Or a pistol. The bottom line is that I do not wish to see you end up that way."

"What options do I have then?" Klaus questions morosely. "I cannot just close my eyes and wish the nightmares away."

"There is something I may be able to offer you…" Alaric states quietly. He takes a seat in front of his nephew.

Klaus visibly brightens, his gaze focusing back on his uncle.

"I cannot guarantee that it shall work. However, it is a clinical drug that is attempting to be developed as a treatment for soldiers with problems similar to you."

"What will it do?" asks Klaus.

"It supposedly will," here Alaric struggles for a word, "'dull' some of your emotions. It may take the edge and allow you live your life normally so that you can adjust. Do keep in mind that it may not work…"

"I want it, consequences or not!" Klaus cries adamantly.

"I shall contact the doctor behind the drug, Dr. Wes Maxfield. I have worked with him quite a bit. He shall want to administer the first dose to you himself."

* * *

The day of his appointment with Dr. Maxfield, Klaus rises early and takes a brief shower. He combs and parts his damp hair and pats his skin dry with a soft towel. He dresses in a charcoal-colored trousers and a starched white shirt. He fastens his cuffs with a pair of silver cufflinks.

Klaus takes a light breakfast of buttered toast and a cup of Earl Grey. His former European allies have heavily-influenced his choices of tea.

He lays out his painting supplies, gazing around at the copies of his modern paintings that have sold for a fair sum of cash and allowed him to retain his modest apartment, and perches in front of his easel for half an hour before packing everything back up, uninspired.

It is then that Klaus Mikaelson heads outside to flag a taxi and head to his uncle's clinic.

* * *

Wes Maxfield is a grey-haired, skinny man approaching the latter half of middle age with empty dark eyes. "Klaus Mikaelson? Your uncle has told me a great deal about you, more specifically about your issues," he states in a faint Australian accent.

"Fantastic," Klaus replies dryly.

"Well, let us get to it." Dr. Maxfield seats Klaus in a cushioned chair and sterilizes the area around the younger man's elbow joint before withdrawing a vial of purple liquid and two transparent bottles of purple pills.

Klaus pockets the bottles of pills before staring uneasily into Dr. Maxfield's eyes. They appear to be bottomless voids of darkness.

Dr. Maxfield clears his throat with a loud huff. "How this drug is thought to work is that it alters those pesky chemicals in your brain that control emotions. You may find yourself feeling a little freer from those restricting sensations. The vial is what I shall start you off with initially. It is about the same quantity of dose as two pills. The two bottles shall last you about six to nine months, maybe a year if you are careful. I would recommend that you start with two pills every other week and then proceed to one pill a week. This dose itself will last you two weeks. Essentially, this is an off-record clinical trial, and if you attempt to contact me again, I shall deny that this ever happened. Shall we begin?"

A hard lump had formed in Klaus's dried throat. He swallows it down and nods. "Yes."

Dr. Maxfield pours the contents of the vial into a syringe and wipes its needle. He stabs the needle into the delicate skin around Klaus's elbow joint and presses down on the trigger. The purple liquid drains out of the transparent syringe.

* * *

Klaus leaves the clinic feeling slightly buzzed but still rather normal. He strolls around the city for a bit before he finds himself in front of a familiar apartment door. He knocks on it.

The door swings open a moment later to reveal Rebekah Salvatore, Klaus's half-sister.

"Nik," Rebekah's husband, Stefan, calls from behind Rebekah. "How did it go? How do you feel?"

Klaus snorts, "I feel the same."

Rebekah frowns, unease written upon her delicate face. She locks eyes with her husband. "Come inside, Klaus. Have dinner with us. Try to stay the night."

"I don't think that's the best idea," Klaus states as he glances up to meet Rebekah's steely gaze.

* * *

Klaus ends up staying for dinner and sleeping over. As the dinner proceeds, Klaus's headache worsens and worsens to the point that he dismisses himself to go rest in the apartment's guest bedroom. He stretches out on the soft mattress with a quiet groan before falling prisoner to slumber's dark reaches.

It is only a few hours later that Klaus awakes with a burning pain throughout his body, everywhere and in his heart.

He stumbles to the door but collapses after a few steps. The burning sensation engulfs his body in flames. Heat is the only sensation he feels. Heat. And pain.

The first scream rips from his throat. And then the sound of his anguished cries drowns everything else out.

He can feel something draining from his body. He can feel the weight of the world of the world lifting off of him.

Time slows down infinitely.

His body relaxes.

The air around him stills. It feels empty. It feels hollow.

It feels free.

* * *

A few moments later when Rebekah and Stefan come darting through the door, a knife in Stefan's hand, they find Klaus sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall.

"What happened, Klaus?" Rebekah questions timidly. "How do you feel?"

And then Klaus's hollow, dark blue gaze focuses on the same eyes of his sister. Hers are bursting with life and full of color. His are cold and dull, hollow and flat.

He states in a dull voice, "I feel nothing."

* * *

It's hard for Klaus to describe the weightlessness he feels, the freedom from over twenty-eight years of guilt and misery and jealousy and hatred and all trivial little things.

He can hear Rebekah on the telephone with his uncle. Stefan is behind her in the corner, keeping mum and fiddling with a length of string.

"What happened to him?" she hisses into the telephone with agitation and worry. "Why is he acting so, so still? It's unnatural!"

Klaus snorts. They don't understand what it is like for him. A layer of foggy haze has been lifted from his mind, and he can see everything now, clear and concise and untainted. He can think rationally now, with his head and not with his heart.

"What do you mean that we have to wait for the drug to wear off, Uncle Alaric?" Rebekah's shrill cries echo around the room.

Stefan winces and covers his ears, rubbing soothing circles on his wife's lower back. He sneaks a quick glance over at Klaus.

Klaus simply rolls his eyes; Rebekah is acting completely childish. She'll soon see that this emotionlessness will be better for him than drowning in paralyzing fear and guilt. Running a hand through his thick hair, he grimaces, realizing that it is time to get his physical appearance under control again. He is starting to resemble those sickly blood-sucking demons from Stefan's horror novels.

Rebekah is still conversing with Alaric, growing more and more frustrated by the minute. Stefan is eavesdropping intently on the telephone conversation.

Klaus studies his knuckles, bruised with splatters of paint, with boredom. He rises to his feet and strolls out the door, Stefan shouting at him in astonishment.

* * *

As soon as Klaus returns to his own apartment, he stalks to his bathroom and studies his face in the mirror with disinterest.

The change he feels is not very evident upon his face, unless you glance very, very closely.

His facial muscles and features are relaxed, the years and lines of stress that used to litter his forehead fading away. He appears younger, almost able to pass for his teenaged self if one looks past all his stubble.

His eyes have transformed the most, resembling Dr. Maxfield's. No longer bloodshot, they are hollow striking cobalt pits, though seeming very one-dimensional with no usual whirlpool of conflicting emotion present.

He smirks.

* * *

The first week passes by phenomenally.

Every day throughout the week, Klaus is finally able to function as a normal, rational, sane person. There are no paralyzing nightmares or no crippling guilt or terror.

He paints.

He paints image after image in varying shades of monochromatic grey.

He sketches.

He fills out his previously half-used sketchbook.

He paints and sketches what he observes, everything he ever notices, as simple as that.

Everything is normal.

* * *

It's the Wednesday of the next week when something interesting occurs.

* * *

On an ordinarily-warm Wednesday morning, Klaus finds himself perched in front of his easel, brush in hand, filling in the image of the city square upon his canvas with broad strokes and finer shading. The rush of pedestrians to and fro amongst the confines of the plaza is depicted in various tones of dull grey or black or white.

"That's an interesting perspective," a feminine voice calls over his shoulder.

Pivoting around on his wooden stool in bewilderment, Klaus snorts in agreement. "If you like monochrome." He eyes his so-called aficionado with interest.

She is what Klaus would call, even without his sappy emotions of love exaggerating her features, attractive. With unblemished skin, hair falling to her shoulders in golden-sunshiny waves, cornflower blue eyes, and symmetrical features, she has the looks to compete with the famed flappers of the 1920s, if her appealing face was not marred by the crescent-shaped scar running from the sharp slope of her nose to the edge of her rounded chin.

"You paint?" he questions, spotting the brush clenched in her hand and the easel behind her.

A scowl splits her delicate features. "Women can paint too," she sneers. "Painting isn't a man's game, like everything else that requires concentration usually is."

Klaus smirks, taken aback by her ferocity and bluntness. "I never said they couldn't. In fact," he says, glancing at the open sketchbook facing toward him, "I was actually going to say that you're a pretty talented painter."

"Hmm," she hums, her expression softening while the challenge in her eyes still remain.

"Klaus," he holds out his hand. "Klaus Mikaelson."

She takes and shakes his hand with a firm and steady grip. "Caroline Forbes. I love what you've done with your piece," she chuckles at her own private joke. "Do you mind?" she gestures at his easel.

Curious, Klaus replies, "No, no. Go ahead. I finished up already, and the paint dried a long while back."

Caroline props her sketchbook on the easel and flips through a couple pages, searching for something specific. Upon finding it, she lets out a triumphant click of her tongue and reveals it to Klaus.

He inspects it with a closer glance and simply blinks slowly at the irony:

Caroline's sketch is an exact replica of his painting. Except where his is flat and with narrow perspective, hers is bursting with color and life.

The lace frock on the little girl, where in his is a dull silver, is the yellow of a buttercup. The sky is a brilliant and bright blue. The water in the fountain is grey-blue with veins of aquamarine. The flowers in the corner shop and in the smartly-dressed man's grip is blooming with violet and fuchsia. Klaus can almost feel the amber rays of sunshine dancing on his skin, smell the vivid chocolate pastries with the pale cream in the bakery window.

Almost. He can almost feel.

"As I said, you are incredibly talented." Klaus swallows, something hard lodged deep in his throat.

She hums in agreement. "Me? Oh, no. I'm an amateur. Good, yes. Talented, yes. But a professional? No."

"Certainly not humble," Klaus mutters against his better judgement.

Caroline shrugs indifferently. "It's a skill you gotta learn to keep playing in the men's game."

"Such a shame that art is considered a man's world. Art could have been a revolutionary profession if conservatives had not frowned upon women participating in artistic movements," Klaus states with slight, tangible regret.

"Yes, a shame," she agrees dryly. "The Renaissance lacked a woman's touch."

He can't help himself, emotions be damned. Klaus chuckles, her dry and piercing wit almost endearing to him. "Well, Caroline. It was certainly pleasant meeting you." He stands and begins to retrieve his supplies, tidying up his work space.

"See ya round?" she cocks her head curiously, interest alight in her luminous azure eyes, as frizzy locks of hair tug out of her elegant hairdo.

"See ya around." He turns his back on her with fleeting disinterest that only resonates in his mind, not his hollowed heart.

Despite his current emotionless state, he knows he'll actually look forward to seeing Caroline Forbes again.

* * *

 **To review or to not review. Review anyway.**


	6. Turn, Turn, Turn

**For Day Five of Klaroline AU Week.**

 **Crossover with Agents of SHIELD.**

 **Based on S1 Skyward.**

* * *

When Caroline Forbes is eighteen-years-old, she runs away from Saint Agnes Orphanage and joins the Rising Tide, a hacktivist organization that exposes conspiracies to the world.

When Caroline Forbes is twenty-one, she meets Josh Rozsa who becomes her mentor and moves into a van.

When Caroline Forbes is twenty-three, her life transforms considerably.

* * *

"The secret is out. For decades, your organization stayed in the shadows, hiding the truth. But, now, we know. They're among us, heroes and monsters. The world is full of wonders. We can't explain everything we see, but our eyes are open." Caroline drags the microphone closer to here, her voice taking on a more challenging tone. "So what now? There are no more shadows for you to hide in. Something impossible just happened. What are you going to do about it? How will you come at us? From the air? From the ground? How will you silence us this time? How can you? The truth is in the wind. It's everywhere. You cannot stop the Rising Tide." She smirks deviously, continuing passionately. "You will not find us, you will never see our faces, but rest assured, we will rise against those who shield us from the truth. And, nothing, nothing can stop us in the-"

Her van door slides open suddenly to reveal two men, both predictably donning black suits. The older one, possibly in his early forties, is handsome with crinkled laugh lines around his blue eyes and dusky brown hair, arms crossed loosely in an authoritative stance.

The younger one, judged by Caroline to be in his late twenties, stands stiffly, so sinfully gorgeous that it is must be a crime. His striking dark blue eyes are devoid of any indistinguishable emotion, and his face, though chiseled sharply with a sloping nose and narrow bone structure, is blank and lacks expression. He holds himself in a semi-relaxed posture, shoulders free of tension but elegant fingers clearly itching for a gun from the manner in which they are curling inwards.

"Hey, what up?" Caroline responds with an awkward smile, like the kid caught with sticky fingers, waving sheepishly at both government agents.

There is a bag thrown over her head, and Caroline, barely given time to attempt to struggle, is dragged out of her van and forced down onto her knees.

She stares at the complicated weave of the cloth bag, small pinpricks of light filtering in from the gaps, and breathes slowly and carefully, regulating her breathing to avoid hyperventilating. Caroline feels a sharp prick at the base of her neck, the tell-tale edge of a syringe's needle digging into her skin, as unidentified liquid is loaded into her bloodstream.

The sedative kicks in quickly, her body crumpling as her muscles numb and her knees give way beneath her. Caroline's vision blurs the inside of the bag into a swarm of darkness.

* * *

She comes to with a startle when the bag is yanked from her head, the light from the overhead fluorescent bulbs spilling into her face.

Caroline blinks drowsily, shielding her face from the sudden onslaught of brightness, and observes her surroundings.

She is seated at a standard metal table in some type of cell, with armor-like material on the walls, the older agent seated in front of her and the younger agent behind her, leaning causally against the wall, eyes narrowing in calculation.

"You can't do this!" Caroline erupts immediately. "I'm innocent! I have rights. People will know that you have me!" Her tirade is ended when the senior agent tilts his head in a silent demand for her to quiet down.

"My name is Agent Alaric Saltzman of SHIELD. Behind you is my associate Special Agent Klaus Mikaelson. Do you know why you're here?" he asks conversationally in a kind tone that Caroline can only believe is to lure her into false confessions.

She opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by Agent Mikaelson who pushes himself off the wall with a grunt.

"Save it," he orders gruffly in a lilting British accent that is totally not what Caroline expects. "We know anything you spew will be a fistful of lies." Ignoring her "Hey!" of protest, he continues soberly, "We know your name is Caroline Forbes. We know that you are twenty-four years old, and your temporary residence has been a van for the previous two years."

Agent Saltzman shrugs at her apologetically before taking over the interrogation. "You popped up on our radar five years ago, for your hacking exploits. We know that you were responsible for the exposure of the Guerrera Wolf Syndicate and for uncovering the cover-up of the death of Andie Starr. We also know that you have been in recent contact with a possible powered person."

"Oh," Caroline replies quietly, all the fight drained out of her.

"Where is Vicki Donovan?" Mikaelson demands, joining Agent Saltzman on the other side of the table.

"Who?" Her brows furrow in false bewilderment, and she nibbles on her lower lips nervously. She whoops internally when Agent Mikaelson's eyes flash indignantly and he opens his mouth, only to be cut off by Saltzman.

"Ms. Forbes, do you remember what the Battle of New York was?"

Caroline nods silently before realizing that Saltzman had expected a verbal reply. "A billionaire with a fancy suit of armor, a hot guy who should have died seventy years ago, some kind of Norse god, a big green Hulk-thingy, and two of your agents titled themselves the Avengers and fought off a bunch of aliens called Chitauri in New York last year," she rambles in explanation.

"Good," Agent Saltzman says in approval. "We know Ms. Donovan is associated with Centipede, an organization attempting to give ordinary people powers. They have given Ms. Donovan a robotic exoskeleton that has melded to her skin, amplifying her strength and speed."

"Yeah," Caroline retorts before she can control herself. "They're doing more than you are. I won't let you hurt Vicki."

"Ms. Forbes." Saltzman sighs resignedly, rubbing the bridge of his nose and inhaling sharply. "SHIELD does want to capture Ms. Donovan but for her own protection."

"Really?" Caroline arches a thin, finely-shaped eyebrow.

"Agent Mikaelson," Saltzman calls to his colleague.

Mikaelson flips a switch on the wall, powering on a projector that magnifies a reel of news reports onto the opposing wall.

Caroline reads the headlines in apprehension:

 _Super-powered Menace Attacks Factory Owner_

 _Out-of-control Cyborg Kills Two_

 _Apartment Building Set On Fire as Power Assailant Flees Scene_

She swallows roughly. "Fine. I will tell you where Vicki Donovan is."

* * *

She is led into a lab and introduced to the rest of the team.

Katherine Pierce, a stunning olive-skinned brunette in her mid-thirties with solemn brown eyes, is the team's pilot and other Special Agent

Lexi Branson, a beautiful blonde with a round face, is a bio-chemist, and Stefan Salvatore, an awkward brunet with olive-green eyes, is the engineer/tech-specialist.

And, of course, there is Special Agent Klaus Mikaelson, the irritating pain in her ass.

Caroline has to poke him to indeed make sure that he is flesh and blood, so motionless and silent he stays.

He lingers around the lab, watching Caroline vigilantly as she fiddles with Lexi and Stefan's holographic table.

"We should analyze the fragments from the apartment building," Lexi says decisively. "We can identify the material the exoskeleton is made of."

"And what do you want to do?" Stefan challenges, eyes blazing determinedly. "Fly over LA, searching for the same material with a scanner, hoping to find Donovan? Be practical, Lexi."

Lexi flushes, about to retort boldly, when Caroline interrupts.

"Wait!"

Their attention snaps to Caroline as if they had forgotten she was there.

Mikaelson eyes her, Caroline shuddering under his thorough gaze. She shoots him a saucy wink, and Mikaelson rolls his eyes in irritation.

Caroline celebrates internally; she had managed to provoke into showing some emotion of a larger spectrum.

"There were cameras in the building, right?" She continues when Lexi and Stefan nod simultaneously. "If I can extract a clip of Vicki, I can feed it into the city's security database and search for a match." She takes over a computer and begins typing wildly away.

The three SHIELD agents crowd around her until Caroline snaps, "Quit hovering over me!" Then they move on to wander the lab, Mikaelson polishing his gun with a spare greasy rag.

"Found her," Caroline announces an hour later.

Lexi and Stefan are by her side in minutes. "Where?" Lexi questions.

"Grand Central Station," Stefan reads off Caroline's screen.

"Great!" Mikaelson snaps his gun back together. "Let's inform Saltzman and Pierce, and then get this show on the road."

* * *

When all is well and over, and Vicki Donovan and her brother Matt have been taken into SHIELD's custody, Caroline approaches Agent Saltzman with a request.

"I want to join SHIELD," she tells him quietly.

"What?" Saltzman spews out his black coffee in shock. "Why?"

"I grew up in an orphanage in New York," Caroline explains passionately. "My real name isn't even Caroline, probably. I named myself Caroline Forbes. I want to find my parents, and I think SHIELD can help me do that."

"I understand that, Caroline, but you must realize that SHIELD cannot take in civilians." Saltzman frowns apologetically.

"I'll become an agent," Caroline replies rapidly.

Agent Saltzman hums thoughtfully. "That may work. You would need an SO though."

"A what?"

"A supervising officer. I can't be yours; I would have to lead the team. Salvatore and Branson are not qualified. Pierce will refuse absolutely. Mikaelson will have to do."

Caroline gapes at Saltzman in shock. "I'm sorry; I must have misheard. Did you say Klaus Mikaelson, like Agent Robot Mikaelson? You know, the one who has barely shown any emotion since I met him."

"You heard me clearly, Caroline." Saltzman sighs, his shoulders tense, trailing a hand over the rim of his mug. "He is the only one qualified if you wish to become an agent. But-"

"I'll do it!" Caroline states determinedly before Saltzman can suggest something else completely unsatisfactory. "I'll stick with Mikaelson as my SO if I must have a SO. I'll do it."

* * *

The first thing Mikaelson does is demand that Caroline show him how to throw a punch.

When she cannot successfully meet his challenge, he groans and murmurs something about "Rookie civilians wanting to play spy."

"Excuse me!" Caroline says furiously. She lunges for Mikaelson's gun, sitting on the bench besides her, and scoops it up before he can protest and fires two shots. One bullet strikes the chain holding the punching bag up, and it tumbles to the ground. The other buries itself in the wall, inches above Mikaelson's head.

He flinches at the sudden sound but is left gazing admiringly at Caroline's handiwork and perfect aim. "How did you do that?" Mikaelson wonders appreciatively. "Your stance and aim was exact."

Caroline shrugs nonchalantly, though her wild blushing betrays her attitude. "I had a foster mom who was a sheriff in a small town," she admits. "I'm pretty good at shooting."

"Pretty good?" Mikaelson breathes in apprehension, his eyebrows raised incredulously. "You're almost as bloody good as Pierce, and that woman is called the Cavalry. She's a one-woman army."

"Thanks."

"So you have given me something to work with," Mikaelson states grudgingly. "I will stay your SO, but, only if you obey whatever order I give you."

His accent is so smooth, so intoxicating. Caroline wants to hear that voice moaning her name. "Good," she says breathily, almost seductively. A moment later, she shrinks in embarrassment, cheeks flaring an alarming shade of red.

Mikaelson does not taunt her or reply, though his eyes darken considerably. "Call me Klaus," he demands quietly.

"Caroline. Call me Caroline," she requests in exchange.

And, damn, if it is not worth it to hear her name crooned from those gorgeous crimson lips.

* * *

"You aren't trying hard enough," Klaus tells Caroline grouchily as they stand several feet apart on the training mats.

"I am!" Caroline complains in response.

"It doesn't look like it." Klaus rakes a hand through his messy curls, sighing heavily. "Attack me. Again. Properly, this time."

Caroline settles into an offensive stance, arms held ready in front of her, prepared for Klaus' first attack.

Which doesn't come.

Klaus remains standing opposite her, raising an eyebrow expectantly. "Well, then." He gestures between them. "Have at it, love. Attack me."

With a silent roar of fury at the irritating pet name, Caroline launches herself at the Brit, dodging below his attempted roundhouse kick. She feints a blow to the left side of his ribs and dives for his right shoulder. But Klaus catches on perceptively, and Caroline finds herself pinned to the floor, eyes to the ground, as he spreads a palm flat against her back to hold her down and wrenches her right arm with his other almost painfully.

His palm is warm and steady against the small of her back, and she can feel his heat soaking through her cotton singlet.

"Well," Klaus announces, releasing her. "Nice attempt to feint. Decent."

Caroline stretches, straightening up, and is about to crow in triumph when he follows it up with a "Not good enough."

Oh, she hates, hates, hates, being told that she is not good enough for something. It stems from her subconscious fear of abandonment or something, some bullshit that psychologists that she was forced to meet with in foster care spewed.

"I'll show you," she growls threateningly at Klaus.

He smirks in amusement. "Show me, then."

She lunges forward but once again finds herself slammed down the mat. "Stop!" she cries to Klaus. "Just stop being so damn fast."

Klaus cocks his head, deep in thought. "You cannot request an opponent to slow down in a fight, Caroline," he tells her hurriedly.

"Fine. One last time!" Caroline decides, adjusting her leggings as sweat trickles down her back. She knows exactly what she'll do this time around.

But Klaus surprises her by stripping his shirt off. He has a lean torso and muscled back, a tattoo of a flock of birds inked in black on his right shoulder.

Caroline's mouth goes dry as she follows small blond hairs down into the waistband of his loose pants, and she understands that Klaus has made a desperate ploy to distract her.

She charges at him, aiming all her weight at his face. When he moves to shield his upper torso, she strikes between his shoulder blades, and he stumbles lightly. He aims a blow at her soft stomach, and she dodges backward, swiping at his neck.

He catches her off-balance with a roundhouse kick to her ribs that send her tumbling to the mat, but moments later, Caroline bounces back up and grabs at his ankle to trip him.

Klaus hits the mat with a thud and lays there stunned for a moment. Caroline climbs onto of him, straddling his waist.

"Haha!" She taps his nose in triumph. "I've defeated you."

"Once, love. Once." He groans in soreness, rubbing at his side.

Caroline's ribs ache hollowly, but she ignores them. She shifts her weight on Klaus' chest, and her core brushes against his groin. She moans in sudden pleasure.

They both freeze, Caroline breathing shakily and Klaus' gaze zeroing in on her trembling lip.

"Brilliant job, love," he congratulates her carefully. His eyes have darkened with lust, and he breathes quickly.

Caroline can feel his heart beating rapidly below her palm that rests flat on his chest. "Nice tattoo," she compliments airily, trailing her hand over the bumps and curves of his chest and to the tattoo.

He sucks a breath in as Caroline leans closer to hover her lips above his. He is a mess, falling apart in her hands, chest rising and falling in fast succession, eyes blown large with lust, curls a riotous swarm.

Suddenly, there is Stefan at the door of the training room. "Am I interrupting something?" he asks awkwardly, eyes averted.

They scramble off each other in a panic, moving to separate corners in the room.

"No," Caroline denies hastily.

"Do you need anything, Salvatore?" Klaus questions demandingly.

"Just looking for Caroline," Stefan replies, appearing a little flustered by both what he was witness to and Klaus' tone.

"I'll come." Caroline gathers her things in her arms and glances at Klaus. "Same time tomorrow?" she asks him who nods in agreement. Then she turns and follows Stefan out the door.

* * *

Some number of weeks later, the team has a mission at Lexi's and Stefan's old SHIELD academy. It is an intense and emotional experience, a rogue agent loose on the campus, and Caroline finds herself under the target of the agent's gun until Klaus tackles him to the ground, pummeling his head in.

Afterwards, Caroline, hands still quivering from the experience, approaches Klaus hesitantly. "You saved me," she tells him in confusion.

"Of course, I did," he grunts in reply. "I'm your SO; I'm responsible for your life. It falls in my hands to protect you until you are fully-trained."

"Still," Caroline drawls nervously. "You weren't required to bash his head in."

"I was mad," Klaus admits, crystalline eyes falling to the floor. "He was aiming for teenagers, for innocent kids who were barely-adults, because of what they were, agents in training. I had a baby brother, Henrik, who had been the same age. He was shot to death in a shooting in his high school. I could not save him."

She breathes out in shock and bewilderment. "Oh, I am so, so sorry. I never knew my family. I could only make friends, really good ones. But they weren't family." As the silence falls awkwardly around them, Caroline continues conversationally, "Do you have any more siblings?"

Klaus chuckles mildly, his hands tugging at one of the many beaded necklaces that are always slung around his neck. "Loads. Plenty of family that I cannot get rid of."

"That's nice." Caroline hums thoughtfully. She chews her bottom lip anxiously. "Listen, would you like to come back to my room, get a drink or something?"

Klaus' face is apprehensive, lips pursued into a frown. Clearly, he was not expecting that. "I'm sincerely sorry, Caroline, but I am already busy tonight. Maybe another time."

He leaves too quickly to see how her face falls.

Later, that evening, Caroline wanders to Katherine's quarters and pounds on the door. "Hey, Katherine. Are you in there? Lexi and I are going to the hotel bar downstairs while we can, before we get up in the air again. Do you want to come?"

The door is flung open, and Klaus stands there, white towel wrapped around waist, hair damp and plastered to his head. "Caroline…" he trails off in bewilderment.

"Klaus." Suddenly, she finds her mouth dry; it is hard to swallow. "So these are your plans."

"I am so sorry, Caroline," he starts apologetically, face pained.

"It's fine." Caroline waves him off, but they both know that she's lying.

From inside the room, Katherine calls in boredom, "Come back to bed, Klaus. You left me unsatisfied. Who is it anyway?"

Caroline chokes. Her breaths are coming quickly and sparsely. She regulates the rise and fall of her chest carefully.

"It's Caroline." Klaus turns to inform Katherine inside the room, but when he returns to the door, Caroline is gone.

She darts through the floors of the hotel, up on set of stairs, and to Lexi's room. Pounding on the door, she barges in when the other blonde opens it, collapsing on the couch. "I'll need that drink now," Caroline tells Lexi, barely holding her tears at bay.

* * *

The two gorgeous blondes perch on the barstools in the hotel bar, lost in their conversation, as men ogle them openly from behind.

Lexi, having shed her nerdy sweater vests momentarily, is attractively-dressed in a simple, thin-strapped, mid-thigh black dress with a lace trim paired with black strappy heels and a silver etched pendant necklace, hair straightened completely flat, her makeup light but with the exception of her dark smoky-eye.

Caroline takes a different approach, donning a navy blue shift dress with a coral and red floral print and coral pumps, her hair tied back in a complicated fishtail bread, makeup light and natural. She is channeling girly cheerleader Caroline Forbes from high school, not bad-ass hacktivist Caroline Forbes as she has been for the last few years.

She tosses back a shot glass full of bourbon, grimacing as the liquor burns down her throat. It is darkly sweet with a hint of some oaky flavor, but Caroline is far up in her plan to drink until she blacks out and doesn't care for what she drinks. "Ugh," she says with a shudder as she swings around on her barstool to face Lexi, hair flopping around with her momentum.

Lexi giggles while Caroline spits golden hair out of her mouth. "So, why did you need that drink?" she inquires snoopily, stealthy signaling the bartender to fill their remaining glasses with water instead of vodka. She doesn't want a momentous hangover tomorrow when the team is scheduled to return to the plane.

Drunkenly, Caroline shakes her head rapidly, snorting in laughter when her braid flops back in her face. "What? Oh. Klaus rejected me," she tells Lexi in a sudden sullen mood swing.

Lexi has the decency to not ask what happened. Instead, she clasps a gentle hand over Caroline's and questions, "And how did that make you feel?"

"Are you tryin' to psychoanalyze me?" Caroline startles before bursting into giggles. Becoming sober, she replies, "At first, I was embarrassed and a little ashamed. But I shrugged it off and went up to Katherine's room, you know, to ask if she wanted to come with you and me. But, guess what?"

"What?" Lexi steadies Caroline as she begins to slump forward into the bar counter. "No more alcohol for you," she tells the other blonde authoritatively. "Now, what happened?"

"I found Klaus, Klaus Mikaelson, the guy who rejected me, naked in Katherine's hotel room. Well, fine," she pauses to consider thoughtfully. "He was wearing a towel, but he was near naked in another woman's room, right after he rejected me."

Jaw dropping, Lexi blubbers in shock, attempting to say something reassuring. Finally, she resigns herself to bashfully stating, "But Klaus and Katherine despise each other."

"Exactly!" Caroline cries triumphantly. "See." She thrusts a well-manicured finger at Lexi forcefully, though it points above her head instead at her face, the alcohol throwing Caroline's balance off. "You get me."

Lexi frowns, her lips pursuing in concern. "Are you okay? You seem to be taking this pretty hard."

"Let me tell you something, Lexi," she says loudly. "When I was in high school, I spent three years in a small town called Mystic Falls because of my then foster parents. Everyone knew that I was an orphan. I was head cheerleader, had the highest grades in each class, was on every committee. But all the boys chose mousy little April Young over me. She wasn't even that beautiful, just exotic in small-town Virginia. I, I was, insecure. I always said the wrong things; April somehow always said the right things." Caroline slips her head to the counter, resting it on her hand, her voice drowning in vulnerability. "I was shallow, like a kiddie pool. Even before that, families would never choose me in Saint Agnes, because apparently, parents wanted an energetic and high-achieving kid, but not one who was bossy and high-management. Mystic Falls was the longest I'd ever stayed with a family, the last family in fact. I ran away from the orphanage when I was eighteen."

"So you have a fear of being rejected," Lexi surmises concisely.

"I was always the second choice. April was always the first…" By her final sentence, Caroline's hand falters, and her head hits the counter with a quiet thud, snoring peacefully.

"Is she okay?" the bartender comes over and asks carefully.

"Yeah. I'll call someone to help me take her back upstairs." Lexi fishes her phone out from her leather clutch and hits the speed dial number for Stefan. Turning her attention back to Caroline as the phone line rings, she whispers, "There is no need for you to feel inferior to Katherine for anything. We've all seen the way you and Klaus look at each other."

* * *

"Caroline," Stefan calls as Caroline hunches over her laptop the next morning, fingers flying with incredible speed, "Saltzman wants to see you in his office."

"Why?" Caroline sits up, shutting her laptop and placing it aside, startled. "What happened? What did I do?"

"Dunno?" He shrugs causally. "I don't think it's anything good from the grim way Saltzman looked."

With a sigh, Caroline heaves herself up and stretches her sore calf muscles before making her way out of the lab.

On the way to Saltzman's office, she passes Klaus who, upon spotting her, calls her name sheepishly.

"Later," she mouths to him, attempting to school her features into a neutral expression. She may have been nursing off last night's master hangover, but that didn't mean that she had to ruin her relationship with her SO or Agent Saltzman.

Arriving in front of Saltzman's office, Caroline rubs her eyes blearily once, tossing her head back with confidence, and twists the doorknob, strolling in. "You called for me, 'Ric?"

"Caroline, sit down, please." Saltzman does not glance up from where he is signing files with quick flourishes.

Stefan may have been right; Caroline decides that upon examining the expression of Saltzman's face. He appears completely sober and focused on his task, but his brows had already knit together in dread upon her arrival.

"Caroline, in the last couple months since you officially joined SHIELD as a trainee, I have been investigating your parents or anything I can find." Saltzman clears files from his desk, dumping them into his drawers built into his desk.

Despite having told herself that she did not care about her origins, Caroline feels a warm spark of hope rise in her chest for the first time in years. "And," she asks nervously.

"I am sorry, Caroline." Saltzman places a bundle of files in front of a quivering Caroline.

She tears into the files, finding only a large number of redacted documents with blacked out dates and names and a copy of her Saint Agnes records and high school GED. "This is it?" Her face darkens with indistinguishable emotions, a shadow passing through her azure eyes.

Saltzman attempts to shrug, but his voice is full of apology when he speaks next. "SHIELD found you as a four month-year-old in a small town in France. The house you were in was decimated. Two agents died getting you out."

Her gaze narrows as Caroline's mouth falls open in shock. "What? Why?"

"You had been identified as a 0-8-4, an unidentifiable unknown."

"But I was a child!" Caroline protests in disgust.

"I do not know much, Caroline." Saltzman sighs heavily. "I know that your parents were not in the scene when SHIELD arrived. They could have been missing; they could have abandoned you. They could have been dead. But, you were undernourished and clearly had been born premature but not properly cared for since your birth."

"SHIELD rescued me." Caroline comes to a sudden realization. "My parents could still be out there, though. Maybe, I was kidnapped." She falters in her passionate speech as Saltzman's gaze turns dismayed.

"You cannot focus on this, Caroline. There is a mission for you, solely you. I suggest you focus on that."

"What mission?" Caroline inquires suspiciously. "Why only me?"

"There is a party on a foreign European Island off the coast of Spain that has declared itself neutral territory, like Belgium. We have info that there will be a very illegal trade deal going down on during the party between two business leaders who have been on SHIELD's watch list for a while now."

"What's the catch?" Caroline smiles triumphantly when Saltzman startles at her acceptance of the mission.

"No government-affiliated guests are invited, and they are all banned. We know that the Rising Tide can score you an invitation. You simply need to gain proof of the trade deal."

"That sounds basic enough." Caroline nods respectfully.

"It should be a simple mission," Saltzman agrees. "In and out. Agent Mikaelson will help you prep."

Biting her lip hard enough for it to bleed, Caroline leaves Saltzman's office, finding herself in the plane's spacious lounge.

"Klaus," she whispers to the Brit seated on the white couch, sketching on a loose leaf of paper.

"Caroline." Klaus lunges to his feet, swiveling to face her in apprehension. "I am sorry about last night. I never meant to hurt you."

"No, Klaus," she replies quietly, all the strength having been drained out of her at the news of her parents. "I don't care."

"You must know, love, even then. What Katherine and I have is a purely physical relationship. Sex is our outlet for channeling our emotions. Every Special Agent needs an outlet; you will too, once you start going on missions."

"I have one," she says in an inaudible voice.

He smirks characteristically. "That's bloody fantastic." Staring straight into Caroline's soft eyes, his devilish expression falters. "What's wrong, love?"

That is the last straw. Caroline's lip begins to quiver as tears well up in the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision. "My parents abandoned me in a village in France. SHIELD actually saved me from death. My own parents didn't want me. No one ever wants me. It's a curse."

"Come here, Caroline." Klaus beckons her into his arms, wrapping her securely in his hold. "I have understood what is feels to be unwanted. Trust me. You are wanted here. You belong to this team. We are your family."

She sniffles into his cotton Henley, warm tears soaking the thin grey fabric, nodding rhythmically as he speaks in his lilting accent.

"Hey." He grabs her jaw tenderly, forcing her to gaze up at him. "You are wanted," Klaus reassures her, brushing tears away with the gentle swipe of his thumb. One hand slides to cradle the back of her head. "You are wanted. I want you." He swoops down and softly locks his lips with Caroline's.

He tastes faintly sour, like lemons and some ancient, incredibly expensive cologne with a fancy French name that makes her head spin, but not unpleasantly.

They sway together in their locked embrace, in their own private bubble, kissing softly and sweetly, all heart-felt emotion pouring out, as Caroline rises on her tiptoes and slings an arm around Klaus' neck, toying with downy baby hairs at the base of his neck.

After several long peaceful moments, they break apart, though Caroline remains in Klaus' arms, warm and content and _wanted_.

Klaus strokes her hair distractedly, resting his chin on the top of her head in a perfect fit. "I will reunite you find your parents, Caroline," he murmurs into her sun-kissed skin as she hums blissfully.

* * *

" _Tyler Lockwood is there in the corner_ ," Katherine orders through the comm, disguised as a diamond earing in Caroline's ears, as the blonde present in the actual mansion surveys the guests. " _Olive-skinned, dark-haired. Spanish origin. He's a rich kid, businessman, owns Lockwood Worldwide Corporations._ "

"Got him," Caroline whispers discretely as the microphone built into the necklace at her delicate throat transmits the message.

Built by Stefan, the microphone measures the vibrations of Caroline's vocal chords without her having to speak out loud and transmits into to the receiver, which Katherine has currently. It is set into an incredibly beautiful silver necklace that contrasts nicely with the sheer white, bell-sleeved mini-dress Caroline dons for the party.

Stefan has also given her a camera hidden in a black clutch that can fit a small Night-Night gun (a revolver outfitted with pellets that release sedatives instead of actual bullets) for anyone who stumbles into Caroline's path.

She now grips the clutch tightly, trailing Tyler Lockwood as he disappeared into a maze of hallways, a dusty brunet stepping closely behind the billionaire. "Who's the other one?" Caroline hisses low in her throat.

" _Atticus Shane_ ," Katherine grunts in reply, attempting to clear her throat. " _Some history professor at NYU, don't really know why SHIELD is watching him_."

"Okay." Out of the corner of her eye, Caroline notices a gorgeous brunette who shares the tiniest bit of resemblance with Katherine exiting the elevator. Her hair is pin-straight, hanging loosely, and she wears an obviously designer blue cocktail dress with lace. "Hey, Katherine, you don't have sisters, right?"  
" _What_?" Katherine replies in shock.

"Nothing. Bad joke. Thought I saw someone who looked like you." Caroline maneuvers her way down the stairs to the basement, stepping lightly to avoid making too much sound. At the base of the stairs, in front of the door, she unearths the Night-Night gun from her clutch, leaving the clutch strapped to her inner forearm discretely.

Caroline kicks the door open with a bang and finds two guards making eye contact with her.

One of the guards prepares to call for assistance, but Caroline knocks him out with one blast to the head.

His partner lunges towards her, but she dodges, grabbing him in a nonlethal chokehold. She regulates his breathing until he falls unconscious and then leaves him slumped on the floor on top of his partner.

" _What was that_?" Katherine demands.

"Knocked two guards out," Caroline hisses irately in reply.

" _Good_."

Caroline proceeds with caution further on through the basement, suspiciously finding no more guards or security until she reaches the north most room, which is completely empty.

"Katherine," she whispers with concern. "Something's wrong."

"You are right about that," comes a voice behind her.

She swivels around quickly, the voice before her belonging to none other than the woman she saw exiting the elevators.

Up close, the woman's doe-eyed stare narrows in disgust. "SHIELD sending a baby agent to do their dirty work." She aims a gun, a real gun, sleek metal glistening, at Caroline, her target focused on Caroline's heart.

" _Caroline? What's going on? Caroline!_ " Katherine calls, panicked, in her ear. " _Caroline. Answer, goddammit!_ "

The woman places pressure on the gun's trigger, her fingers wrapping around the handle more securely. Her hands do not sway. At the last possible moment, she changes her aim.

There is a loud bang echoing across the comms with the screechy sound of static, Katherine yelling frantically in Caroline's ear.

But Caroline hears none of this.

Her palms go to cover the wound in her stomach where crimson blood spills out with speed. The thick liquid flows over her hands, and she glances down slowly as she stumbles back.

Then the impact hits, the shock, the extreme pain, and Caroline releases one whimper of agony, of intense torment, a single noise of complaint that Katherine can hear very clearly.

Caroline crumples to the ground.

* * *

The low beeping of machines rouses Caroline from her drowsy states, and her entire body feels sore and stiff, as if she hasn't moved in months.

Her eyes flutter slowly open to reveal a stark white ceiling with flickering hospital lights and the concerned, ashen faces of her team.

She blinks groggily, realizing that she is laying in a full-on medical pod and heart monitors are hooked up to her body. "What happened?" she asks, voice slurring badly.

Saltzman is first to respond. "Caroline," he answers gently. "You were shot."

The memory comes back to her with a bang, and her hands fly to cover the wound.

But there is no wound, only a faint scar glistening on her pale naked torso, her shirt rolled a little above her belly button.

"What?" she gasps, stuttering apprehensively. "How long ago? What happened?"  
"You were shot on the Lockwood mission, love," Klaus reminds her gently, his hand laying on hers as he strokes her palm in calming motions.

The rest of the team is undisturbed by his public display of affection; they all know how the two agents felt about each other.

"How long ago?" Caroline repeats harshly.

"Two weeks. You were on the brink of life and death." Katherine scowls at her from where she stands next to Stefan. "You freaked us out." Her usually-hardened dark eyes are shadowed with concern.

"How did I survive?"

"The team flew on a crazy mission to find the serum that was used to bring Saltzman back to life. We nearly lost you a couple times," Stefan replies confidently.

"You died," Caroline asks Saltzman in confusion, her eyes widening.

"We'll tell you that later," Klaus tells Caroline offhandedly.

Stefan continues with his explanation. "The serum had elements of foreign biology that melded with you own DNA and speeded up your healing. The meld may have been permanent."

She sucks in a harsh breath. "Is that bad?"

"Caroline, do you understand?" Lexi inquires gently. "The alien DNA joined with your DNA, because it was already part of your DNA."

Her jaw drops in bewilderment. "Are you saying that I'm part alien?" Caroline demands in a bold voice.

* * *

"Last year," Saltzman explains with a heavy set to his shoulders. "I was killed by a Norse god-alien person."

Caroline gapes at Saltzman, flabbergasted of how a man who claims to be dead is standing in front of her, healthy and alive and pure flesh. But, then again, there was an alien invasion last year. The world has only gotten weirder.

To the rest of the team gathered in the plane's lounge, though, it seems old news.

"Wait, you guys knew this?" Caroline's voice breaks. She eyes everyone, including Klaus, in suspicion.

"Everyone knows that Alaric Saltzman died last year. Very few people, including us, know that he was resurrected." Katherine twirls a slim knife between her fingers, balancing it on her knuckles, as she responds without glancing towards Caroline.

Saltzman speaks quickly before Caroline can ask any more questions. "I was brought to life through an intense surgical process involving the same serum we injected you with. Except that my body kept rejecting the serum while yours never did." He levels the blonde with a sober stare. "We did not know why."

"But," Lexi jumps in. "After an examination of your blood interacting with the serum and experimenting, we found only one conclusion-"

"That I'm an alien," Caroline concludes.

"Or part alien," Stefan corrects feebly as she glares at him in fury.

"Not helping!" she exclaims, suddenly overwhelmed by this flood of information. "I go from being an orphan who has never known her parents to not even being completely of this world."

Saltzman smiles at her reassuringly. "We understand, Caroline, and we will continue to research into this. But, momentarily, we have slightly more pressing concerns."

"Like who in this organization is a bloody traitor, love," Klaus growls in rage, fists clenching by his side. "There is no way the bitch who shot you could have known you were with SHIELD unless she had someone on the inside."

Caroline places a calming hand on Klaus' shoulder who relaxes under her touch. Katherine steps up, sheathing her knife and waving a hand above the holograph table which flickers with a dull light before coming to life. She projects a record of locations and timings, all listed under Agent ID numbers. "This is all the locations of everyone on this plane in the last three weeks but you. We are tracked by chips for emergency cases in our badges, but you, not being a full-fledged agent yet, don't have one. But, still," she explains rapidly. "That rules out everyone on this plane from being the traitor."

"So, I'll get right on it. I just need to grab my laptop and…" Caroline trails off at Stefan's sudden nod of refusal.

"I am sorry, Caroline, but the next couple days are bedrest for you, until Lexi and I check that you are completely healed and have no side effects from the serum."

* * *

There are blaring alarm sirens as the plane's emergency lights kick in, dowsing the interior of the plane in a reddish glow.

Caroline rockets out of her bunk and rushes to wrench the sliding doors of her quarters apart as the plane swerves in its flight course.

"'Ric!" Caroline calls in panic. "'Ric, what's going on?" When her SO appears by her side in a cotton shirt and sweats, she grips his hand firmly and glances into his hardened dark eyes, asking, "Klaus? What's happening?"

The Brit replies grimly, mouth set in a firm frown, "I have no idea, love. Saltzman!"

As their leader stumbles into the lounge, clutching on the couch's edge to avoid sliding to the floor, he orders over the siren, "I don't know what's going on, but get to the conference room."

With the entire team gathered together in the conference room and the siren yet still blasting away, Saltzman takes his place at the head of the table. "Pierce," he demands from Katherine. "Why aren't you in the cockpit?"

The brunette, appearing flustered for the first time since Caroline's met her, wrings her hands together. "Autopilot took over as soon as that alarm started blaring. We are on a fixed course, and I have no idea where we are going."

"I can override that," Caroline offers quickly.

"No, Caroline," Saltzman interrupts. "This is a fixed course from SHIELD. We are being called back because of some emergency attack-"

There is a loud burst of static behind Lexi, and the entire team whirls around defensively to face the large screen in the back of the conference room which has flickered to life.

There is a bright white light which gradually fades to a black background. Red words burst out of the center, splitting the screen in bold font.

"Out of the shadows," Katherine reads in horror.

"And into the light." Caroline's face is comically surprised, her mouth dropping to her chest.

"Hydra," Klaus concludes emotionlessly.

There is intense silence for a moment that stretches on painfully for centuries before Stefan question quietly, "Isn't Hydra gone? Hasn't it been for seventy years?"

Saltzman shakes his head, his eyes bulging out of his head. "Hydra was a cruel and villainous organization grown out of the Nazis, their sort of SHIELD, in the '40s."

"But it ended," Katherine continued with narrowed eyes and a suspicious expression, "when SHIELD, then known as the SSR, arrested its leaders for war crimes. Some scientists were later recruited by SHIELD. It is supposed to be gone."

"Or not," Klaus offers with an edge to his voice. "It seems Hydra has remained alive in SHIELD throughout the last seven decades."

Slowly, the truth sets in.

"SHIELD has fallen," Lexi realizes in shock. "If Hydra rises to this calling…" she trails off grimly.

"They won't." Stefan reassures Lexi by placing an arm around her shoulder in comfort, though his best friend still frowns with concern.

"They will," Caroline states plainly with growing horror, glancing up from her phone. "They have. Ten minutes ago, Captain America barely stopped three Helicarriers from firing on three million targeted innocents in Washington DC. It's plastered all over the internet!"

"What will happen to SHIELD now?" Lexi asks, echoing the question that is on all their minds.  
Saltzman speaks with a dreaded finality,

"There is no SHIELD now. It was always Hydra."

 _To be continued…_

* * *

 **Review...**


	7. I'm Am Already Dead

**For Day Six of KC AU Week, Mythological Creatures.**

 **This is cheating a bit. I chose zombies and felt compelled to turn this into an iZombie!AU. Enjoy.**

 **I'll write a sequel to this or any of my drabbles/one-shots if anyone shows interest.**

* * *

Caroline Forbes didn't want to even come to the Lake Washington boat party.

When her colleague from her medical residency, April Young, invited her to the party, Caroline initially refused. Matt, her stubbornly-kind and loyal fiancée, convinced her to go.

Once we're married, he said, you'll be tied down to me. Go out and enjoy yourself for once. You wring yourself out too much, working and studying 24/7.

So she came to the party.

And it turned into a massacre.

Like an actual massacre.

A brain-bashing, people-trampling, jumping-overboard kind of massacre.

That brain-bashing she mentioned? Actual brain-bashing.

Caroline was serious. People froze, their eyes morphing red, and then jumped upon the nearest alive human in a frenzy and began bashing their brains out, literally taking out chunks of brain out and eating it. Like zombies.

The surviving victims were fleeing, rocking the boat as they searched for hiding places or exits onto the dock. But most of them were being pulled back by these zombie-things and pinned to the ground in preparation for brain-bashing.

So Caroline did what any normal sane person would do.

She dived overboard the boat. But, just as she did so? A man scratched her arm. The blue-eyed, blond-curled man who flirted with her twenty minutes ago in a sinful British accent and then offered her Utopium, the newest recreational pleasure drug in Seattle, only for Caroline to immediately reject him. The same man whose eyes turned ferocious red as he sliced a line down Caroline's inner arm.

When she finally hit the water with a silent splash, it overwhelmed her, frigid and turbulent, and sank her into the darkness.

When Caroline awoke in a black body bag, water-logged and skin ashen, a large streak of white running through her perfect blond curls, she frightened the EMT who became distraught over body-bagging a living girl.

Caroline, though, knew two things.

A: There was a long, white, angry puckered scar on the inside of her arm, contrasting with her skin that was gradually lightening in splotches.

B: She had a sudden hankering for brains.

That had been six months ago.

XXX

There is a loud clattering in her apartment's kitchen as Caroline, disturbed from her sleep, gets out of bed and stumbles to the living room, blearily rubbing her eyes with exhaustion.

In her kitchen, she finds her mother, best friend and roommate Bonnie, her teenage sister Margaret, and her ex-fiancée rummaging through Caroline's meticulously-organized cabinets and refrigerator. They all turn to gaze at Caroline as she arrives in the room.

Caroline stares at her little family in apprehension before glancing down at her own self. They are all polished and dressed smartly, Liz in her pantsuit for her job as a hospital administrator at Seattle General Hospital, Bonnie in dress pants and a crème blouse cut to reveal hints of her mocha skin for her defense attorney job, Margaret in a sundress as the typical teenage girl, and Matt dressed casually in jeans and a button-up for his job as a social worker. Caroline, however, has pale blond hair in vicious tangles and slouches in a sweatshirt and sweatpants.

"Mom, Maggie, Bon, Matt, what are you guys doing here?" she asks in confusion as Liz pulls pots and pans out of the dishwasher.

"I live here," Bonnie reminds Caroline who shakes her off with a subdued frown.

"It's Potluck Tuesday," her mother exclaims with false enthusiasm. "We gathered everyone here today to eat!"

"It's Wednesday," Caroline replies dryly. She turns to her younger sister. "Shouldn't you be at school?"

Maggie shrugs without glancing up from rapidly texting on her phone. "It's spring break." She does look up now and locks sincere blue eyes with Caroline, smiling slightly.

"Fine," Bonnie sighs, gazing at Matt for assistance who offers her a feeble grin in return. "This is an intervention."

"An intervention," Caroline repeats suspiciously. "For what?"

"For you," Liz responds smoothly, concern glimmering in her azure eyes. "You have changed, considerably, since you attended that Lake Washington boat massacre. What happened at that party?"

Caroline shivers at the mention of the party, hackles rising as she becomes suddenly defensive. "It's PTSD. I have survivor's guilt. The last therapist you made me see told me that before I walked out of the appointment. And everyone knows what happened at the party." She pauses to take a deep breath, her fists clenching by her side. "A bunch of druggies got high, grabbed guns, and began shooting up the place," she explains monotonously, repeating what she had been saying since the days after the incident.

"Yes, but…" Liz hesitates. Matt standing by her side has remained silent thus far, mouth twisted into a subtle frown.

Bonnie slams a plate on the kitchen island with more force than required. "You used to be ambitious, Caroline. You were happy, a high-achiever, brilliant. Now, all you do is laze around and occasionally do the laundry." Her jade eyes are narrowing in frustration, her delicate nose flaring in disgust.

Caroline's mother nods her head in agreement. "We love you, Caroline, and are extremely concerned for you. Since the boat massacre, you quit your residency, took up a goth look," Liz gestures at Caroline's practically white hair and paler-than-pale skin, "gave up your friends, broke off your engagement with Matt," both Matt and Caroline wince, "and took up a job at the morgue of all places. What's going on?"

"For your knowledge," Matt states suddenly, his sincere gaze turning to Caroline. "I was not made aware that we would be bringing the topic of the engagement up."

"Whatever." Caroline shakes her head apathetically, brushing hair back from her eyes. "I have to go. To get ready. For my job. At the morgue."

XXX

She holds the drill in one hand, the other shoving her protective goggle onto her eyes and straightening her white lab coat before holding the corpse down and raising the bone saw to the deceased male's head.

After a little splatter of blood, Caroline lifts the brain out of the skull casing, pink and squishy in all its glory. She weighs it out a scale before dropping it into a bowl and carrying it to the little kitchen nook in a corner of the basement morgue. She washes the brain off, slicing it like one would to any other regular meat, sautés the brain with some onions and carrots and kale, sets the dish into an opaque Tupperware container, and finally dumps about a pound of Tabasco hot sauce in the container.

As Caroline settles into a chair near the entrance of the morgue, she digs into her meal with a knife, slurping as the nearly-tasteless meal fills her stomach.

"I knew it," comes the accented and triumphant voice of her boss, Dr. Enzo St. John. "You are a zombie!"

Startled, Caroline slams the lid on the container and sets it behind her, shielding it with her body. Her azure eyes grow wide and alarmed for a moment before attempting to maintain a normal façade. "Wow, Enzo," she chortles nervously. "I mean, working in a morgue does indeed drive you crazy with the silence and isolation, but I didn't know that you were crazy enough to start creating conspiracy theories."

Enzo smirks in response, his dark eyes passionate and gleaming. "Caroline, what do you take me for? I am a medical examiner in the morgue. I used to work in the CDC. I can make connections between corpses missing brains on your shifts and your sudden mood swings." He sighs heavily in disappointment. "I had hoped you would tell me before I was forced to confront you."

"Seriously, though. Zombies? Missing brains?" She laughs hesitantly, trying to pass the conversation off as a joke. "Wait, you used to work for the CDC."

"Yes," Enzo confirms. "I indeed did. Until they fired me for claiming that a zombie apocalypse was inevitable. Dammit!" He kicks the counter with a boot-clad foot before groaning in pain. "Quit trying to change the subject, Caroline. You're a zombie. I know you're a zombie."

She bites her lip, considering her options. Finally, she blurts out, "Fine! I'm a zombie," Enzo's lips split into a cheery grin, "but you can't tell anyone." Her eyes narrow grimly. "You can't tell anyone, okay?" she warns Enzo.

"I promise, Gorgeous. I won't. I know how grave this would be if it was revealed to the world that zombies exist." His gaze turns sober. "How did this happen anyway? I assume that it has something to do with the Lake Washington boat massacre."

"How do you know about that?" Caroline gapes at him in bewilderment.

"I make it my business to personally vet any potential employee."

"You background-checked me?" she yelps in surprise.

"I had to," Enzo reassured her. "It's a con of working for the Seattle Police Department. Or any police department for that matter. Now, anyway, I had a buddy still at the CDC who examined one of the bodies from the massacre who told me about some unusual traits in most of the bodies. Naturally, they kept this hushed up. So I have some theories. How did you escape the massacre?"

Caroline sighs in defeat. "I jumped overboard and then woke up in a body bag. Before that, some guy scratched me. I saw people, feeding on brains and raging out inhumanly. Like…"

"Like zombie?" Enzo offers.

"Yes. Their eyes turned red, and they were just in a frenzied state. Pure adrenaline, it seemed." She brushes crumbs off the plastic counter. "The guy who scratched me, his eyes turned red, too."

"Interesting," Enzo mutters. "If you turned into a zombie because you were scratched means that zombie-ness is transferable, like a disease."

"I prefer to think of it as a virus," Caroline admits.

"If it is to be a virus, it does not appear to be spread through skin-contact nor does it appear to be air-borne. It must be transmitted sexually or through body fluids such as blood or saliva."

"Yeah," she agrees quietly. "I broke my engagement off to protect my fiancée. I didn't want to place him at risk because of me."

"But if it's a virus," Enzo concludes. "There must be a cure."

"Really?" Caroline gasps. "I thought that I would be stuck like this forever. A cure never even occurred to me." Her voice stutters towards the end of her words.

"If a little bit of research, I can begin work on creating a cure for you." Hastily, he adds, "For humanity too. For humanity's sake. A zombie apocalypse would be dreadful, Gorgeous."

"Thank you," Caroline whispers tiredly.

"Don't thank me. Thank yourself. You are the most interesting thing to happen to this little morgue in ages. The police barely ever come down here." Enzo grabs a notepad and pen, hovering the pen above the paper in anticipation. "I need you to answer my questions as accurately as you can, Gorgeous."

Silently, Caroline nods, bracing herself for intrusive questioning.

"Describe your immediate moments after you woke up in the body bag," Enzo orders authoritatively.

"Umm," she hesitates. "I woke up, and I knew something was different. I felt different, slower, sluggish. I could think and breathe and see, everything seemed normal. But there was this urge…"

"For brains?" he offers, scribbling with the pen rapidly.

"Yeah." She lifts her Tupperware container and moves to place it in the refrigerator. "It wasn't overwhelming, but it was there. I managed to sneak some brains out of a corpse in a body bag, that was enough for then. After that, I did not do anything for a week. I waited and returned to the hospital for my residency. But, soon I found myself in the hospital morgue, stealing brains…" Caroline trails off ashamedly.

"And you realized that you needed brains as nutrition," Enzo assumes. "So you quit your residency and," here he pauses admiringly, "you joined the morgue here to sneak brains. Quite brilliant, Gorgeous. And discrete."

"That's the gist of it." Caroline smiles feebly, "but there's more."

"I'd thought so." Enzo flips to a clean sheet. "Enlighten me."

"I'm different-"

"No!" Enzo deadpans sarcastically.

She glares at him in mock-rage before continuing, "I lost aspects of my personality. I used to be ambitious, a people-pleaser, neurotic, determined, focused. Now, I feel dull, hollow, a void that can only be filled by eating brains."

"Why?"

There is an audible pause as Caroline delays the inevitable as long as she can. She drums her fingers across the edge of the kitchen counter, drawing swirls with a lone finger in the dust settled on the surface. "When I eat a brain," she explains slowly, "I take on aspects on the brain, of the brain's personality. I'm like a sponge, I guess you could say. I also get flashes, glimpses of their memories. It's quite random."

"So," he hums thoughtfully, "last week when you were always yawning and wide-awake but drinking three cups of coffee after each meal…"

"I was on that one infamous tech blogger's insomniac brains. Tina Fell, former beauty queen and tech enthusiast. She was mowed down by a motorcyclist in a hit-and-run accident." Caroline shudders in recollection. "I had flashes of her last moments. Gave me nightmares."

"What else?" he asks eagerly. "What about your senses? Do you have enhanced speed or strength or anything?"

"Not really," she admits when Enzo's face falls. "I mean, my taste buds are so dulled that I need a bucket load of hot sauce to even taste anything, and I can't feel pain as anything but a pinch. But I do bleed."

"What do you mean that you cannot feel pain?"

"I sliced my finger once while slicing carrots. It was a deep cut, to the bone, but it felt like a scratch. It was gone in hours anyway."

"Incredible," Enzo breathes slowly. "You have enhanced healing and a high threshold for pain. Continue."

"There's one more thing," she says sheepishly. "When I feel threatened, I get overwhelmed, like a sudden surge of adrenaline. My eyes turn red, and I have increased strength and speed. It's like an uncontrollable high, but I'm working out it…"

Caroline's cut off by a trail of footsteps echoing down the stairs of the morgue as a man comes into view of Enzo and Caroline.

He is middle-aged with dusty-blond hair, light blue eyes, and tanned skin, laugh lines crinkling around his eyes, frown lines etched into his forehead. "Hey," he says to the two medical examiners. "My name's Detective Alaric Saltzman. Just transferred from Vice to Homicide. I'm looking for Dr. St. John."

"I am Dr. Enzo St. John," Enzo steps forward to shake hands with the detective, then turning to Caroline, he explains, "This is Assistant Medical Examiner Caroline Forbes."

"Pleased to meet you. Call me Alaric." Detective Saltzman shakes Caroline's hand with a firm, warm grip that feels alien against her cool skin. He turns his attention back to Enzo. "Dr. St. John, I'm here for a body, a woman who was stabbed to death."

"Oh, yes. Her." Wincing, Enzo strides to the giant metal freezer of drawers, unlocking one with a set of keys from his pocket. He pulls the drawer out with a loud clang, reading the tag off. "Katerina Petrova, 27. Cause of death: Multiple stabs to the chest. She bled out in minutes."

"Also known as Katherine Pierce," Alaric adds, watching Enzo as he carts the body to where the detective and Caroline stand. "She was a con woman, a very good one. She would manipulate wealthy clients from California to Washington, make them fall in love with her, give her control of a good chunk of their wealthy and property. Just as they did, boom! She would vanish with their money. She never used aliases, though she had a few."

"Then why couldn't anyone catch her?" Caroline asks curiously.

Detective Saltzman shrugs nonchalantly. "She had some very loyal informants. Keep herself on top of everything. Guess this time she bit off more than she could chew." He reaches into his jacket to retrieve two headshots, displaying them to Caroline and Enzo. "Stefan and Damon Salvatore, heard of them?"

The left picture displays a handsome young man with bronze hair, tanned skin, olive-green eyes, and a square jaw. The other displays a slightly older man with dark hair, cerulean eyes, olive skin, and a chiseled nose. Both share the same wide forehead and large ears.

"The bachelor brothers who run Salvatore Pharmaceuticals? The millionaires?" she recalls in confusion, brows wrinkling in concentration.

"Yes," Alaric confirms. "Stefan, 24, and Damon, 31, run their family company, a centuries-old Seattle-based pharmaceutical company. It previously was run by their deceased father Giuseppe Salvatore."

Enzo's nose flares in disgust. "Didn't their mother run off with some man? It was all over the papers a couple years ago," he says defensive when Caroline stares at him with surprise.

"Lily Salvatore left her family for Julian DuPont, a LA-based artist." Alaric examines the body for a moment. "She was quite beautiful, apparently. Very cunning. Anyways, six months ago, the Salvatore brothers went Katherine at a gala, and they were quite taken with her. Hence began a twisty game of cat and mouse until both brothers fell in love with her. Recently, Damon proposed to her with the Moonstone Ring, a large chunk of polished moonstone set into a silver frame. Rumored to be made in England in 1492, it is worth four million dollars."

Enzo whistles, a sharp sound that slices through the silence in the morgue and causes Caroline to jump in alarm. "That's more than I make in two years," he explains admiringly.

Ignoring the medical examiner, Detective Saltzman continues, "Katherine disappeared with the ring for a day, but then she was found in the Salvatore Boardinghouse by both brothers. They claimed that they were returning from a golfing trip, but their alibi's been confirmed. It's rock solid."

"But the ring still missing," Caroline concludes.

"Correct." Saltzman reaches into his jacket again. "I have a picture of her pre-death if it helps." He slides the sheet over to Caroline who examines it.

Katherine Pierce, formerly Katerina Petrova, is a gorgeous olive-skinned woman with dark hair in heavy curls, seductive doe eyes, and sharp cheekbones.

Upon Caroline taking one look at her, the world slows and dims considerably as Caroline freezes and is swept forward in a vision.

 _"_ _No!" a woman who Caroline recognizes as a live Katherine Pierce screams in rage, slinging a crystal decanter full of amber whiskey at a wall. It shatters with a loud crash, shards and liquid sliding to the oak floor._

 _The recipient of Katherine's anger, a woman nearly identical to her except for kinder doe eyes and subtler cheekbones and dark hair hanging loose and straight, winces. "But Katerina!" she protests, her voice taking on a light musical accent when she says Katherine's biological name. "I love him!"_

 _"_ _Which one?" Katherine growls. When the other woman does not answer, she repeats more forcefully, "Which one, Elena? Stefan or Damon?"_

 _Elena bows her head in shame. "Both of them, Katerina," she whispers demurely. "Stefan and Damon."_

 _"_ _You cannot." Katherine shakes her head in clear refusal._

 _"_ _I love them both, Katerina."_

 _"_ _I KNOW!" Katherine swivels around, face contorted almost inhumanly. "I know what love is! I know more of what love is than you do, little sister! I know sacrifice, something you do not!"_

 _"_ _I am sorry about Na-" Elena attempts to say._

 _"_ _DON'T YOU TALK TO ME ABOUT NADIA!" Katherine roars in fury. "Nadia was all I had of Silas! But she was torn from my arms upon birth, because you could not keep your fat lips shut! Perfect, little demure Elena, the twin everyone preferred to bold, rebellious Katerina! The daughter who always got what she wanted, always took what her sister wanted! I carved out one glimpse of happiness in my disgusting life. And guess what? You took that too!"_

 _"_ _I'm sorry about Nadia," Elena repeats, hidden notes of steel to her voice. "But Papa would have found out one way or another if I had not told him."_

 _Katherine sighs heavily, shoulders set tensely. She abandons her anger, attempting for another method to reach her sister's logic. "We have conned dozens of men, even some women. We have the Moonstone Ring. Let's just leave. Run away. We'll sell the ring and move back to Europe. Paris, think of it. You've always wanted to go to the Colosseum. The Salvatores will be a bad fairytale by then."_

 _"_ _No, Katerina," Elena replies with determination, her eyes narrowing darkly. "I will not leave Damon and Stefan behind."_

 _"_ _Elena," Katherine warns. "Give me that ring."_

 _"_ _No-"_

"Caroline!"

At the sound of her own name, Caroline jolts back to the land of the present, gasping loudly, heart racing like she had run a mile. She notices Alaric staring at her in confusion and turns to him, rambling, "Katherine, no, Katerina Petrova. She's Bulgarian. She-she has a twin sister named Elena. Elena Gilbert, that's her alias. Her full biological name is Elena Petrova. She and her sister were staying in a hotel somewhere in Seattle."

Alaric gapes at her. "What? How do you know all this? Is this true?" He gazes at Caroline expectantly.

She ignores him, pleading, "Check my information out, please. I think Elena killed her sister."

"Elena Petrova was thought to be one of Katherine's aliases," he pauses thoughtfully, "but how do you know all this?" he demands authoritatively.

"Umm…" Caroline stares at Alaric blankly, mind too numb to search for a quick lie or half-truth or even a retort.

"She's psychic," Enzo blurts out suddenly.

"What?" Alaric and Caroline cry in alarm, Alaric turning to glare at Caroline.

Quickly, Caroline jumps aboard Enzo's explanation. "Yes," she confirms weakly. "I'm psychic, have been since I was young. I don't know how, but I just get these visions. It's very difficult to explain, Alaric. Please just check the tip out."

"Fine," the detective agrees cautiously, backing out of the morgue and heading upstairs, still eyeing Caroline in confusion and suspicion.

Once he's gone, Caroline turns on Enzo in frustration. "What was that for?" she exclaims.

"You were standing, there, Gorgeous," Enzo states, raking a hand through his dark gelled hair. "Like a statue, blubbering. I saved your ass. By the way, I'm going to assume that that tidbit of knowledge was from your con woman brain."

"But, but," she blubbers in bewilderment.

"I saved your ass," Enzo repeats. "Thank me later."

XXX

Surprise, surprise. Caroline's tip pays off, proven accurate when Alaric drags a nearly-identical Katherine doppelganger to the station and positions Caroline in the interrogation room with him.

It appears that Katherine was a serious kleptomaniac though. Every moment Caroline stops by a desk in the police station, she is urged to scoop up a stapler or pen and drop it into her purse.

Elena finally cracks, admitting to the theft and murder. "I fell in love with both the brothers. I wanted to return the ring, but Katherine wouldn't let me," she sobs, her words nearly indistinguishable.

"So you murdered her," Alaric concludes. "Your only true family, your only sister, your twin. The only person you knew in this godforsaken country when your uncle shipped you and Katerina here illegally. You murdered your beloved sister, because you fell in love with two notorious American heart-breakers."

"Yes." Elena only sobs harder. "But Stefan, Damon, and my love was real. It was the purest emotion I had ever felt, the most certain thing I knew in my heart."

"The ring has been returned to the brothers, and they will testify against you in court. Seems they didn't love you enough." Alaric raises a thick eyebrow apathetically at the distraught girl. "I'm curious. How did your little routine work? You know, the whole twins thing."

"One of us would seduce the man, usually Katerina, occasionally me. We would alternate covers if necessary, pretend to be each other. The other would run the background work necessary, the hacking, the false documents. That was usually me," Elena explains, her sniffles grow louder until Alaric hands her a box of Kleenex.

Unable to resist herself, Caroline blurts out, "Who's Nadia?"

"Huh?" Elena's head shoots up, gazing at Caroline through blurry eyes.

"Who is Nadia? Who is Silas?" Caroline repeats.

"How do you know…?" Elena shakes her head in defeat, blowing her nose miserably before replying. "Silas was Katherine's older boyfriend when we were sixteen. He was seven years older than us, in with the Russian mob. Our father was the head of a rival mob family, the Travelers, and despised Silas. He had Silas killed. When Katerina found she was with Silas' child, I begged her to go tell Papa, but she refused and convinced Papa to send her away on a vacation, to Russia to live on her own for a while. I could not take lying to Papa anymore so I told him. Papa forced Katerina to come back and when she gave birth, he tore the baby girl she named Nadia from her arms and sent her to be adopted by an unknown family in Ukraine. Then he sent Katerina and I to the United States."

"Wow," Alaric murmurs for a moment. "That is quite some tale. Enjoy telling it in prison." Caroline and he watch as Elena Petrova is carted off by a couple of uniformed officers. Then he turns to Caroline seriously and says, "Your hunch was right about her. How did you know?"

Unsure of how to reply, she shrugs causally and replies, "I told you. I'm psychic."

"I guess." Alaric shakes his head in doubt, but he questions her no longer. Handing her a white business card, he orders, "If you ever have another vision pertaining to a case, call me."

"Sure," she agrees, tucking the card into her wallet. As she leaves the station, she makes a point to stop and return all the items she stole, resisting the urge to collect a shiny gold pen from the front desk.

XXX

Her next brain is a former soldier who died in a car accident and suffered from PTSD, which Caroline regrets eating tremendously when the nightmares begin.

 _She's darting through a maze of dark alleys, breath coming in harsh pants as her lungs and upper thighs ache dully. She is herself now, Caroline._

 _This is her own nightmare._

 _The monster chasing her can be heard from his lumbering footsteps and similar echoing lack of breath and gasps. He growls._

 _And Caroline only runs faster, her heart skipping beats._

 _Faster and faster they run, ploughing only further into the darkness._

 _Once Caroline stumbles, and the closeness of the beast's feet scraping against stone spur her on._

 _Finally, Caroline reaches a river, an expanse of darkness that gapes into a void, a tide barely audible over her own loud breathing. She swirls around to face the monster._

 _"_ _Hello, sweetheart," he says in a sinful accent, wicked smirk slow to spread on his crimson lips. "It's been a while." His dark blue eyes flare with sudden red._

 _Eager to get away, Caroline forgets where she is and steps backwards, falling before she sinks into the frigid, dark water._

 _She is drowning again, and soon she will wake, streak of white running through her hair, skin paler than pale._

Caroline jumps against her headboard, banging her head, as she awakens. The bed is damp from her sweat, and if she places a hand over her chest, she can feel her heart racing like an engine.

"Brilliant!" she murmurs in apprehension. "Just brilliant!"

XXX

"Why, Caroline, you look pale," Enzo comments joyfully as she trudges in the next morning. He stands over another body.

"Shut up," she growls at him, dark circles under her eyes unnaturally pronounced. "Who's that?" she gestures brusquely to the body.

"Are you fine?" he asks in concern. When Caroline ignores him, he explains about the body. "Tyler Lockwood, artist, notorious womanizer, despite his failing marriage to his wife. Poisoned."

"And so…" she waits expectantly.

"Oh, right." Enzo realizes after a moment that Caroline is referring to the crime. "It was the wife. They arrested her. Quite obvious, really."

"Oh." Caroline pouts. "Are you done with him?"

"You want his brain?" Enzo inquires innocently.

"Yes!"

A quick brain sandwich later, Caroline can feel her fingers twitching, the urge to grab a pencil and draw coming on her. She grabs a pen and a napkin and begins to sketch.

"Whoa!" Enzo exclaims as he stumbles by, carrying lab supplies. "Can you sketch me later?"

"Huh?" Caroline tears her attention away from her work. "Yeah, whatever."

"Who is that, anyway?" He gestures to her napkin sketch which depicts an attractive man with tousled curls that Caroline knows to be sandy-blond, a wide nose, dimples, crimson lips, large eyes that should be a striking dark blue, and a chiseled jaw.

"What?" She stares at her sketch before realizing who she has sketched. "Someone I need to find."

* * *

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	8. Welcome To The Underworld

**Last Day of KC AU Week.**

 **Ghosts!AU.**

* * *

She really shouldn't be texting and crossing the street at the same time, but Caroline Forbes can't resist.

She's chatting with Bonnie about the perfect prom dress she found at the boutique (strapless, coral silk, and white lace), sending each other emoji and little pieces of high school gossip, and she never hears the car approaching.

There is a skid when the driver slams down on the breaks, attempting to stop the car, but its momentum carries the vehicle forward.

The impact is enough, launching her into the air as she lets out one sudden scream of alarm and pain, shopping bags scattering everywhere.

Caroline Forbes, seventeen, lone daughter of Sheriff Liz Forbes and Bill Forbes, best friend of Bonnie Bennett and Elena Gilbert, ex-girlfriend of Matt Donovan, Miss Mystic Falls, is dead before her body hits the ground with a thud.

XXX

Niklaus Mikaelson watches the newly-dead as they surge out of the elevators to the Underworld and swarm the gates, waiting to be assigned a Charon.

Next to him, his friend Stefan Salvatore yawns, rubbing sleep out of his bleary eyes. "I hate this," he grumbles to Klaus. "I hate having to watch these newbies realize that they're dead and cry for mama."

"That's good for you, mate, but this is our job. You chose this, I believe, as your assignment." Klaus eyes the clock impatiently; one more hour and he will be able to go out for drinks with his other friends Marcel and Lucien. "When I died, they just assigned jobs. They would put you anywhere."

"You died a thousand years ago," Stefan reminds him grumpily. "At least your death was better than mine. I was shot. My father shot my brother and I, because we were attempting to free a Union soldier."

Klaus does not bother to correct him, instead sighing and refocusing his attention on the large crowd of dead.

"Stefan Salvatore?" a bored guard calls. "You have a newbie. Valerie Tulle. Drowned in her bathtub."

"Coming," Stefan replies loudly to the guard. Turning to Klaus, he complains, "Who drowns in their bathtub? Come on, now."

Watching his friend be led off to drowned-in-a-bathtub Valerie, Klaus leans back against his chair, tapping the spotless marble floor with his boot in an erratic rhythm.

Two minutes pass. Then ten. Then thirty. Finally, with ten minutes left to his shift, he rises and stretches his calves out, uncomfortable from sitting still for so long.

"Niklaus Mikaelson?"

Klaus glances up as a guard waits for him expectantly, and he groans in frustration. He was so close from ending his shift.

Silently, he follows the guard down the stairs of the balcony and to a private conference room off the side. Klaus twists the doorknob and enters the room as the guard leaves off to the right.

Seated on a metal chair inside is a gorgeous blonde. Klaus puts her age at seventeen, four years younger than he was when he died. She gazes up at him with azure-colored eyes as he enters, her curls quivering with the movement of her head.

"Hello, love," he begins to say confidently. "My name is-"

"Niklaus Mikaelson," the blonde assumes in a musical tone that takes him aback. "What kind of name is that, anyways? What are you, a Viking?"

"Niklaus Mikaelson is the name my father gave me. Please, call me Klaus." He smiles charismatically, his eyes twinkling mischievously. His day just took a pleasant, yet unexpected turn. "And, yes. I was a Viking. How did you die? I assume by now you have figured out where you are."

"The Underworld, yeah; that was kind of obvious upon seeing the whole three-headed dog beast," she explains snarkily. "I was hit by a car."

He cannot help himself; he winces. "Ouch, that must have been painful, love."

"Actually, no. It wasn't. The impact broke my neck relatively painlessly. And my name is Caroline, so you can stop calling me by your little pet names," Caroline snaps, turning to glance out the window overlooking the rest of the Underworld.

"Brilliant to meet you, Caroline. Welcome to the Underworld. You've gotten the memo that you are dead. After a quick tour of the facilities, you will be assigned an apartment or residence and given choices of a job. If you need any assistance, a list of services will be provided to you to aid you in easing yourself into your life after death." He finished his droning, eyeing Caroline curiously who is giggling at this point.

"You really don't like your job, do you? What are you, anyways?" Caroline blurts out amongst bursts of laugher.

He smiles sincerely now. "No. Not really. I was assigned this job when I died a thousand years ago. Now, they allow you to pick your job." Chuckling slightly, he continues, "I'm a Charon. A guide."

"Like the original myths?" Caroline raises a delicate, golden eyebrow.

"Yes, but that Charon retired a long time ago. Almost two thousand years before my death." Klaus checks his watch that hangs loosely on his wrist. "Do you need anything else, love? My shift's over."

She hums thoughtfully. "No. I'm good. I think I got the gist of it; I'm dead basically."

"Well, welcome to the Underworld. Enjoy your stay."

The door slams shut behind him, leaving Caroline to stare dully at the wall.

XXX

A week later, Klaus is out in the local supermarket, shopping with Henrik, his little brother. Henrik died when he was sixteen, mauled by wolves, ten years after Klaus himself died.

"Hey, Klaus!" comes a cheery voice from the aisle on the other side. It's Caroline, appearing fresher than when he met her last and clad in a yellow sundress.

"Who's that, Nik?" Henrik asks curiously.

"One of my old dead souls. Helped her last week," Klaus replies distractedly, watching the blonde and her radiant smile as she approaches. "How are you adjusting to being dead, love?" he calls.

"I'm fine. How're you?"

"Good."

She turns to Henrik, eyes widening as she takes in the resemblance between him and Klaus. "And who are you?"

"This is Henrik," Klaus responds swiftly, "my brother."

"Oh." Her smile diminishes for a moment. "How nice to have family around you. I was an only child."

"It's not just Nik and I," Henrik pipes up. "Freya, our eldest sister, died relatively young in childbirth; she's twenty-three. Kol, who also died in battle, is nineteen. But our other siblings, Finn, Elijah, and Rebekah lived to have full life and died past seventy."

"Ignore him," Klaus states, chuckling, ruffling Henrik's hair playfully. "Have you made any acquaintances, love?"

"I met Davina Claire; she died when-"

"She was sixteen, slit throat. She's our brother Kol's girlfriend," Klaus interrupts offhandedly while Caroline smiles in polite confusion. "Anyone else?"

She frowns, sighing heavily. "No, not really. It's been a long week."

"Have dinner with me," he proposes charmingly. "A couple friends and I are going out for drinks tonight. You can join us. Stefan and Damon are from Mystic Falls too, I believe."

"The Salvatores?" Caroline asks in surprise. "We learned about them last year. Heroes who were shot dead attempting to save Union soldiers in captivity."

"Don't tell Damon that," Henrik jokes. "It'll go to his head."

Klaus laughs roughly. "You'll most likely approve of Katherine, Gia, Lucien, and Marcel. Katherine is from Bulgarian royalty; she hung herself in 1492. Gia is a musician who died like you only last year. Lucien is a servant from France, stabbed by a prince in 1002 AD because of his affair with the prince's sister Aurora. Marcel is a former slave who died similarly to the Salvatores, his neck snapped while freeing slaves in 1835."

"They sound like very colorful characters," Caroline comments. "I'll think about it." She beams and walks away, hips swaying as she does.

Once she's gone, Henrik remarks to his older brother, "You fancy her, don't you?"

"Nonsense," Klaus snaps, but he continues to watch Caroline Forbes leave.

* * *

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	9. Henry and the Pretty Girl

A KC Human!AU and YouTuber!AU. Please read and review.

* * *

Caroline feels a tugging at the hem of her baby blue sundress. Glancing down causally, her heart _literally_ melts.

Standing below her, head barely reaching her knees, is the most adorable little boy she has ever seen. Caroline would put his age at four at most. He's limber, with roly-poly limbs, innocent cornflower blue eyes, and chubby cheeks blushing pink that Caroline just _needs_ to pinch. His cowlick of dark hair spills unto his face messily.

"Hey, little guy." Caroline slips off her stool and kneels on the ground to reach the boy's height. "What are you doing here?"

"My brotha," he mumbles in the cutest baby voice ever, words breaking off as he looks around shyly.

"Who's your brother?" she pressures gently. When the boy does not reply, only shaking his head with zest, she tries a different tactic. "What's your name, little man?"

He looks her straight in her eyes and babbles, "Henwy."

She presumes that he was trying to say _Henry_. "Hi, Henry. My name is Caroline."

"Cawoline?" Henry attempts to say, stuttering over the pronunciation.

Caroline shakes her head in embarrassment. _Stupid_. He name is too complex for a little boy to pronounce. "Call me Care."

"Care?" he murmurs with more ease. "Care-bear!" Henry laughs delightedly in realization.

"Yes," she agrees enthusiastically. "Like a Care-bear. Do you have one?"

"My sista Hawpe," he replies childishly. "She has a Cawe-bear. Hawpe is thwee."

"That's awesome!" Caroline cries. "High-five!" Secretly, she is glad her babysitting sessions with the Fell toddlers paid off from when she was fifteen.

"High-fiwe!" Henry reaches his tiny, sweaty hand and smacks Caroline's palm.

"Right, Henry." She leans closer, as if sharing a controversial secret with the boy. Pretending to whisper into his ear, she asks, "Who is your daddy, Henry?"

She is feeling incredibly irate towards Henry's father or guardian. Whoever he or she is has acted very irresponsibly by abandoning the little boy in the middle of the convention. Who the hell even brings their kid to VidCon, the third annual convention for YouTubers hosted by YouTube itself?

Caroline herself is a lifestyle vlogger who promotes positivity and bright, expressive fashions. She certainly is no Bethany Moda, but over the last couple years, she has collected a good-sized following and fan base.

"I don't know my daddy," Henry admits clearly, articulating this sentence. It is as if he has grown familiar with these set of words.

Caroline frowns.

But Henry is still babbling. "Hope's daddy. I know him. He's my brotha Nik."

 _Nik_. She smiles down at the little boy. Inside, Caroline seethes. There is only one _Nik_ she knows, another blogger that Stefan, her best friend, has collabed with several times and ultimately befriended.

 _Nik_ laus Mikaelson, an artist with a large fan gathering on tumblr and an even larger following on YouTube with his art and travel vlogs.

"Let's go, Henry." Caroline scoops the little boy up into her arms, careful not to squeeze him or hurt him.

"Where we gonna go?" he mumbles, staring around the crowded room.

"Going to go," she corrects his error unintentionally, mentally sighing. He's a child; he is not meant to really talk in full, formal sentences like Caroline keeps expecting. "We are going to see your brother Nik."

Caroline stands and marches over to where she can see Mikaelson chatting it up with a beautiful redhead and another blonde across the room.

"Hello." Caroline taps him on the shoulder, and he turns around in confusion.

"Can I help you, love?" he asks in his lilting English accent, sounding unfairly charming. Added with his looks, if Caroline had not been so pissed, she would have been falling at his feet. Dark blond hair in rumpled curls, striking blue eyes, and distinctly-hollow features.

"Wait," he says in sudden realization. "I know you. You're Caroline, that positivity vlogger! My sister Freya loves you."

Freya Mikaelson, Caroline realizes. She is a history vlogger. Most of the family are vloggers. Rebekah is a fashion vlogger, Finn has some kind of weird yoga vlog thing going on, and Kol is a comic book and movie vlogger and reviewer. The only sibling with a normal job, Caroline can recall, is Elijah who is a lawyer.

"Nik!" the redhead whines in a light Australian accent. "Finish your story about Paris."

"One moment, Aurora," he replies distractedly.

The redhead is Aurora de Martel, an Australian dancer and vlogger. The other blonde is Camille O'Connell, a part-time psychologist and vloggers. Personally, most people, including Caroline, find her to be dull and monotonous. Still, people follow her.

"Yes, you can help me," Caroline snaps at Klaus.

He is taken aback. "Ouch, love," he laughs as he places a hand over his heart. "I don't know what I ever did to you."

At this time, Henry decides to pipe up. "Nik!" he cries enthusiastically, reaching his grubby little hands out for his older brother.

"Henrik?" Klaus asks in bewilderment before his eyes widen in realization. "Kol! That little fuc…" he paused at Caroline's loud cough. "I mean idiot." He pulls the three of them aside, Aurora and Camille frowning intensely.

She covers Hen _rik_ 's ears, hissing angrily to Klaus, "He's like four. Be more responsible!"

"He's five!" Klaus replies glumly, snatching Henrik from Caroline's arms and setting him on the ground. He squats to reach his brother's level. "Why did you find Caroline, Henry?" he questions gently.

"I was towd to." Henrik glances at his feet with childlike innocence.

"Who told you to, little man?" Klaus pressures slightly more.

"I was towd to talk to pwetty girl. Bring him to brotha."

Caroline explodes. "You sent _your baby brother_ to chat me up? What are you, twelve?!" Her porcelain face is flushing red.

Klaus laughs almost rudely. "I didn't even know that you were here! Why would I send my baby brother when I could ask you out myself in person?"

"Wait." Caroline freezes with realization. "You want to ask me out?"

"Yes, love," Klaus sighs impatiently. "Katherine, my brother Elijah's girlfriend, and Stefan are always trying to set me up with you. I thought that I would cut out the middleman and ask you out before they succeeded. That way, we won."

She is about to reply when Henrik interrupts.

"I hadda tawk to Davinuh…" he admits in his adorable voice.

"Davina?" Caroline asks. Her beliefs are confirmed when Henrik nods his head with much zest. "What did Henrik have to do with Davina? I was sitting two seats away from her."

Davina Claire is a seventeen-year-old from New Orleans who blogs about vintage lifestyles and fashions. She is a pretty good friend of Caroline's, only a year younger than her.

"Not me, love. Kol," he corrects her. "He has a crush on the girl and claims that he wants to be a proper gentleman this time around. Kol wanted to collab with Davina, something about Captain America and the 1940s. He most likely sent Henrik to ask her, but the poor boy got confused."

"But she's a brunette, and I'm a blonde," Caroline states in confusion.

"Pwetty girl in bwue dress," Henrik clarifies unintentionally.

That does make sense. Davina had been donning a blue skater dress, similar to Caroline's babydoll sundress.

"I will take this little boy to Kol. Rebekah will be willing to watch Henrik. She's here somewhere. I plan," he rubs his hands together gleefully, "to allow Elijah to berate Kol. It is one of the most amusing aspects of having so many siblings."

"I wouldn't know," Caroline admits sadly. "I'm an only child."

"Oh. Well, that's your luck. Really, Caroline, Henrik and I must be going." He takes the little boy's hand and turns to disappear into the crowd.

"What about the date?" Caroline blurts before mentally berating herself.

"What date?" His thick eyebrows narrow in confusion before his eyes clear. "Yes. Would you, Caroline Forbes, want to go on a date with me?" he asks charmingly.

She giggles despite her stubborn facial demeanor. "How about a collab?" she offers. "Next month?"

"Yes, well," Klaus hums. "We'll work something out. Bye, love."

"Bye," she calls after them.

"Bwi, Care-bear!" Henrik yells in his innocent, child voice.

Waving at him, Caroline smiles. Klaus was not as much as a jerk as she thought him to be; maybe this collab would be fun. He did have an adorable brother.

* * *

Review, please. If you have any requests for a sequel or new drabble, please send me an ask at

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	10. Stranger Things (Have Happened)

Based on this tumblr prompt:

Klaroline mafia au: Klaus is a crime boss and Caroline is his wife

Triggers for minor character death.

* * *

Head Detective William Kinney of the NOLA PD watched the drunken clubbers sway out on the dance floor or knock back drinks at various tables in the nightclub as he crouched in a leather booth in the corner, hidden well away from the flashing lights.

His entire body is tense, and he longs to grab a beer to distract his turbulent mind, but that could blow his cover and compromise the entire investigation.

He's in enemy turf, staking out in Mystic Falls, a nightclub owned and operated by the Originals.

The Originals are the largest and most powerful mafia in the city, have been since the 1980s, and are notoriously secretive. They are head by the Mikaelsons, a family whose history with New Orleans is as old as the city itself.

The Originals have hands in almost every major business and network in New Orleans, and their association with the Mikaelson family was covered deep for decades, only discovered with the death of the family patriarch Mikael Mikaelson in a police shootout last year.

One of Mikael's sons, the esteemed Mikaelson brothers, has taken over as head of the organization, and NOLA PD had no knowledge except for theories.

Until last month, until Cami O'Connell's death.

Camille O'Connell, niece of respected priest Kieran O'Connell, had been a very passionate police psychologist and beloved by everyone in the NOLA community.

To Will, she had been a very dear friend.

But Cami was increasingly inquisitive, too much for her own good, and had begun poking around into the organization.

Then, she ended up dead, and Will had a good idea who, because Cami had last been seen with Klaus Mikaelson three days before she turned up in her apartment, strangled to death.

Klaus Mikaelson, famous in the art communities, a big name in New Orleans, owner of Hybrid Gallery. He is a handsome man, born in New Orleans, brought up in London, who spent his early twenties as a playboy before settling down.

Will's snapped back to reality as he catches his target leaving the bar. One of his CIs had tipped him off about her visit to Mystic Falls.

Furtively, he follows her through the club and out into the back alley.

Will watches carefully, hiding his body behind the club's back door, as she takes a phone call, speaking into her iPhone with frustrated whispers.

Finally, when she slips her phone back into her pocket, Will gets his first good look at her.

Angelic face, blond curls, cerulean eyes.

Caroline Forbes-Mikaelson is a respected wedding planner and the wife of Klaus Mikaelson. She was born in small-town Virginia, daughter of the town sheriff. A brilliant student in high school, she had been head cheerleader and a beauty queen. Everyone loved her.

Will wonders how she ever got mixed up with the Mikaelsons.

She had moved to NOLA and opened her own little wedding planning business. She met Klaus when she planned his older sister Freya's wedding to Lucien Castle.

She is innocent in all of this, and Will is regretful of this. Cami had met Caroline once and had declared her to be one of the nicest people Cami had ever met.

Caroline, however, is currently a necessary pawn.

When she turns to reenter the club, Will moves behind her and claps a hand over her mouth to muffle her surprised scream.

"I have a gun," he tells her slowly, "but if you cooperate, I will have no need to use it."

She nods compliantly, blue eyes wide and frightened like an innocent lamb's, jaw twitching nervously.

Carefully, with exceptional patience, Will removes his hand from her mouth. True to her word, Caroline does not scream.

"Follow me," he orders, exiting the alley with Caroline trailing him obediently.

XX

He takes her to a warehouse nearby on the waterfront that he knows to be secure but also easily locatable and accessible if necessary.

One hand aiming his gun at the blonde, Will uses the other to handcuff Caroline to a pole.

She may have been obedient so far, but Will is not idiotic enough to think that she won't attempt to escape.

"Pull on those," he says gruffly.

When the blonde roughly tugs on her handcuffs and Will is able to see that her hands are truly secured, he nods in satisfaction and pulls out Caroline's phone, hitting dial next to Klaus' contact name.

The line rings once before it is picked up.

"Sweetheart," comes the smooth, cultured voice of Klaus Mikaelson, "why are you calling me when I'm painting?"

"Considering that I am not your wife, I don't know why," Will replies dryly. "I could ask her, seeing as she's handcuffed to a pole in front of me."

There is tense silence on the other end before Will hears a harsh, grating laugh on the other end.

"Good luck with that, mate," Klaus tells him sarcastically.

Will's mouth is dry all of a sudden. Of every reaction of Klaus' Will could fathom, he did not see this coming.

"What kind of a husband," Will demands, "are you? Leaving your wife in danger?"

Klaus laughs again, the sound raising hairs on the back of Will's neck. "You dug your own grave, Detective Kinney."

"I never-" Will stammers, mouth gaping.

There is a low, long beep before the call cuts off. Will moves the phone from his ear and into his palm, staring at the offending device.

 _He never told Klaus Mikaelson his name._

At the silent crunch of gravel, Will whirls around to find Caroline Forbes-Mikaelson unchained from the pole and standing tall and proud in front of him.

"Who do you think tipped you off, Detective Kinney?" Caroline smirks mischievously. "Your CI informant was a man named Aiden, wasn't he?"

Will nods slowly, body stiff and unmoving in Caroline's tricky gaze.

"Two years ago, his boyfriend Josh got into a _little_ trouble with the Italian mob in Chicago. Stefan Salvatore, my husband's close ally and a family friend of my mother, helped him and Aiden out. Ever since then, Aiden was indebted to our family, so it wasn't very hard calling in a favor," the blonde explains, smiling winningly.

"So…" Will's eyes widen as he begins to realize the truth.

"This all was a set-up," Caroline confirms with a laugh. "Your dear old friend Cami started snooping in places she shouldn't have. My husband took care of that. But, then, you followed in Cami's footsteps, so it was time for me to get my hands a little dirty."

With shaky hands, Will brings his gun back up to aim it at the blonde. "I will shoot," he tells her, voice composed in an attempt to sound solemn. "I can and will shoot you. No sudden moves."

Caroline steps closer slowly, a predator staking out the prey.

Then, something lashes out at Will's chin in a blonde blur, and he finds himself knocked flat on his back.

Caroline stands above him, his own gun cocked downwards towards his forehead.

Her breathing pattern has barely changed, staying fairly consistent, though she still pants a little as she says, "I was a cheerleader in high school. I've got enough fancy moves."

Will scrabbles backwards on his hands, heart pounding and blood rushing through his ears, though the gun still follows his movement. "You don't have to do this. Why are you doing this? You don't have to do what Klaus says."

Caroline shrugs. "That wouldn't make a difference if Klaus wanted this." When Will's eyes begin to glaze with confusion, she smirks crookedly. "My husband isn't calling the shots."

Caroline squeezes the trigger of the gun.

 _Bang_.

"I am."

* * *

Taking requests for drabbles here and on tumblr. Find me here:


	11. Alternate Realities

A Sherlock, White Collar, and Gossip Girl AU

* * *

 _Three universes where Klaus and Caroline are someone else, and one universe where they are the baby vampire and the Original hybrid._

XX

 **Something more than an assistant to a famous detective**

" _This phone call, it's… it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note."_

" _Leave a note when? Klaus, you're starting to scare me!"_

" _I'm sorry, sweetheart. It's for the best. This is definitely not how I hoped to tell you, but I love you, sweetheart. Always have, always will."_

" _Klaus?"_

" _Goodbye, Caroline."_

" _No, don't-"_

…

"How are you holding up?" Dr. O'Connell asks gently, pen hovering over her notepad. The concern in her eyes is genuine, but Caroline has seen that look one time too many in people's eyes, concern coupled with pity or sometimes disgust as women turn away or men step back as Caroline passes through the streets of London, whispering behind their covered hands, _She's the ex-girlfriend of that detective, you know, from last year._

"It's been months," Caroline snaps defensively, "how do you think?" She turns her head away from the psychologist, her demeanor becoming more closed off.

"Caroline, please. Your friends and family are concerned; it's been almost a year, and you haven't made any improvements. You don't appear to making any adjustments."

When Caroline doesn't reply, Dr. O'Connell sighs in frustration, setting down her pen. "Caroline, I can't help you any more than how much you let me."

"Then, don't!" the blonde retorts tiredly, her fierce cerulean gaze faltering as she begins to frown.

…

Knowing that no one would be around, the blonde musters the courage to visit the building she hasn't seen in about a year (or can't bear to).

She roams the flat, her mind distant, as she trails her hand lightly over a dining table they had last both sat on together, his easel that stands in the corner untouched and accumulating dust, the desk still covered in half-finished sketches and dossiers about their old cases.

The echo of him that is always besides her is at its strongest in this flat, and several times, she turns to make a snide remark or share a private joke before remembering.

It is not until she reaches the bedroom that was originally his that everything comes crashing down.

She pulls out drawers, searching through the familiar sweaters and coats that had been originally set aside in storage for winter but, in actuality, will never been worn again.

In the final, bottom drawer, she finds, tucked in between silk ties and cotton Henleys, a small box, cube-shaped and carved from mahogany.

And, for the first time in months, Caroline Forbes slides to the ground, back braced against wall, trapped with the remnants of her old life with London's infamous consulting detective Klaus Mikaelson, and begins to sob.

…

" _Is that it?"_

" _Is that what?"_

" _We've only just met and we're gonna go and look at a flat?"_

" _Problem?"_

" _We don't know a thing about each other; I don't know where we're meeting; I don't even know your name."_

" _I know that you're formerly American Special Ops, though you were originally trained as a medic. I know you were recently involved in some kind of crash, most likely classified, forcing you to take an early retirement from your career. I know you've got a mother back home in the small-town in Virginia you spent most of early life growing up in, but you have an unstable relationship with her. Former cheerleader and beauty pageant queen. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp's psychosomatic-quite correctly, I'm afraid."_

" _Takes a lot of guts to get hands on a classified file, doesn't it?"_

" _Oh, no, no. I didn't need to. The name's Klaus Mikaelson, and the address is 221B Baker Street."_

XX

 **An FBI agent and an art thief**

FBI Agent Caroline Forbes of the New York White Collar Division's already-shitty day (created by a punctured tire discovered when she accidentally locked herself out of her house and the terrible, terrible coffee in the FBI HQ) only worsens when she gets a phone call informing her that Klaus Mikaelson has escaped from the Super-Max.

Three years ago, Klaus Mikaelson, the biggest bust of Caroline's career, had been considered the world's most elusive criminal; he was more of a pest than harmful, a simple gentlemen thief, a suave con man and artist with a knack of slipping in and out of the most heavily-fortified buildings in the world undetected. In a career that had been pinpointed as beginning a decade prior, Mikaelson had pulled off some of the most high-profile heists of the century. He was considered a legend in the crime world and a highly-coveted golden goose challenge to every government in the world. He was untouchable, a slippery fish, until a petite blond junior agent with enough time on her hands and a determination unheard of spent a year and a half on his trail.

Sadly, all of Caroline's hard work fell in vain when the only charge the federal prosecutor was able to pin on Mikaelson was tax evasion (that too with a reduced sentence), and Mikaelson was sent to a maximum-security prison, ignored by Caroline for the next three and a half years of his four-year sentence until he escaped four hours ago.

"Fuck this," Caroline groans with irritation as she slams the cordless office phone back onto the desk, accidentally rattling her desk and sending her coffee mug plummeting to the floor.

Caroline watches mournfully as the bitter liquid soaks into the cream carpet, staining it a ugly, plain brown.

…

"How did he get out?" Caroline growls to the idiotic prison warden who let one of the best thieves of the last half century _literally_ walk out of a prison.

"He disguised himself as a serviceman and exited via the maintenance entrance, hotwiring a truck in the parking lot." The warden shrinks under the fiery gaze of the blonde decked out in a smart pantsuit and heels.

"You have security cameras all over this prison!" she admonishes them fiercely. "How did he escape those?"

"He knew their blind spots?" the warden offers up nervously.

Caroline sighs in frustration. "And dare I even as how he procured the disguise?"

"Online," the warden tells her. "He swiped a prison guard's credit card."

…

Caroline finally tracks down Mikaelson to an apartment in New York that she realizes to be the last-known address of Tatia Petrova.

Klaus is sitting there, back braced against a concrete column, breathtakingly handsome in a plain white t-shirt and barefoot, blond curls messily rumpled, features gaunt. He is caressing a Boudreaux wine bottle in his hands, rotating it delicately as he examines the opaque glass.

Her heels click across the concrete floor as she strides into the single bedroom. "I see Tatia moved out. She left you a message in that bottle?"

"The message is the bottle," Klaus replies charmingly but with his usual charisma lacking. "It's been a while."

"Yeah," she snorts humorlessly, "a few years, give or take."

There is a slight pause before she speaks, just as bluntly as before. "They asked me, what makes a criminal like you pull a boneheaded escape with four months to go?"

"Guess you figured it out," he remarks, eyes still focused on the bottle.

"I watched the tape of the last day Tatia came to see you," Caroline admits. There is no response from Klaus so she continues. "Your girlfriend says goodbye to you in prison and gets busy with her disappearing act. The trail ends here. But you knew that already."

"Missed her by two days."

"Still," Caroline says, shrugging. "Only took you a month and a half to escape a supermax. Color me impressed."

"That's what I strived to do," he states dryly.

There is a buzz of static as the receiver attached to Caroline's ear relays a message to her. She doesn't react to the words of the agent on the other end and speaks back into her receiver, "Subject identified and unarmed."

Klaus raises an eyebrow. "We surrounded?" At Caroline's nod, he asks, "How many?"

"Including my agents?" Caroline ponders for a moment. "And the Marshalls? All of them."

He nods, thoughtful expression on his face, in response.

"So what's the message?" Caroline blurts out and regrets it when Klaus appears to have been startle out of a daze. She has always been this way around Klaus Mikaelson the few times they have met and spoken, unintentionally blunt and abrupt.

"Goodbye."

Klaus sets down the bottle, gazing at it mournfully.

Caroline's hand is slipping down to the handcuffs tucked in her pocket as she turns to walk towards Klaus when he speaks suddenly.

"Something's wrong. Tatia's in danger."

Caroline freezes in her tracks. "Why?" she asks coolly. "Why do you think that?"

"She stopped visiting me. She's visited me in prison for the last three years and then suddenly stops? Doesn't that seem suspicious?"

"Maybe she grew tired of you," she remarks.

"Please."

He looks up at her, and Caroline's taken aback at how transparent his eyes are, striking blue and expressively-honest.

This is not the Klaus Mikaelson that Caroline has previously met and grown accustomed to; this is a glimpse behind the mask, a glimpse of the man, not the cunning thief or suave conman.

"Please," he repeats tiredly.

Caroline closes her eyes and breathes in and out slowly, bringing her mind back under control.

Klaus is right in being suspicious.

Though she has only met Petrova once, Caroline has seen enough of that tricky woman to know that Tatia is truly in love with Klaus, devoted to him.

She wouldn't leave him. At least not willingly.

"We'll find her," Caroline promises genuinely. "I swear."

"No."

His quiet refusal has her stealing a look at his eyes again.

"I need to find her; it has to be me."

She sighs. "Mikaelson, the only thing you need right now is to get to your prison cell. Besides, there is no legal way that you'd be able to-"

"There is a way," Klaus says wildly. "It's rare, almost unheard of, but it's legal. I'll be getting another four-year sentence, right? You or the FBI can request for that sentence to carried out by your side; I'll be released into your custody. I'll be a valuable asset, a criminal consultant."

"Who's saying you won't just escape?" she protests feebly.

"A security bracelet will prevent that. Or maybe, an GPS tracking anklet monitor. Those are supposed to be tamper-proof. Besides, you and the FBI need me; I'm the best thief the world has seen in the last decade." Klaus smirks, arrogance barely crowding the desperation out of his expression.

"I don't know." Caroline rubs at the crease between her eyebrows.

Klaus' face falls, and he glances away from Caroline.

She sets her shoulders stiffly. "I can't make any promises, but I will make sure my superiors consider it."

"Good." Klaus's gaze travels around the room before settling on Caroline, and he frowns. "Are those the same heels you were wearing when you arrested me?"

Caroline scowls. "Versace isn't cheap. And don't try your luck, Mikaelson."

XXX

 **Two Upper East Side teenagers**

 _Hey, Upper East Siders, Gossip Girl here…and I have news! Get this; one of my many sources,_ livthewitchbitch, _sends us this: Spotted at Grand Central, Elena Gilbert, bag in hands, clearly in a rush. Was it only a year ago our infamous It-Girl mysteriously disappeared, off to quote-unquote boarding school? And, just as suddenly, she's back? Does Elena's best friend Caroline know that Elena's back? C. had a pretty good year without E. around; looks like that's going to change._

…

"Caroline, Elena's here!"

Still in the reverie of her boyfriend Stefan slowly and seductively nipping up her neck as her body sinks further back into the plush mattress, Caroline ignores her mother's announcement until it suddenly occurs to her what Liz has said.

"Wait, what?" Caroline jolts up, tearing herself from Stefan's embrace. "Elena's back in town?" She sneaks a bewildered glance at her boyfriend's face.

With the same wide eyes and startled expression that Caroline imagines that she is currently wearing, Stefan pushes himself to a sitting position and reaches to button his dress shirt back up. "Yeah," he says casually. "You didn't know? I thought you'd have seen the Gossip Girl post by now."

"No, I didn't," Caroline tells her boyfriend, ignoring the burning in the pit of her stomach. "Whatever. We gotta go."

They rush to redress themselves and burst out of Caroline's bedroom door the moment Elena arrives in front of it.

"Caroline!" Elena exclaims, beaming down at the blonde before snatching her up in a tight hug.

When Elena finally releases her and steps back, Caroline gets her first good look at the brunette.

She has obviously lost some weight in the last year, and some of the baby fat from her face has smoothed out, but Elena still has the same gorgeous olive skin and big doe eyes and her hair is braided back.

Next to her, in a rumpled white lace Liz Forbes dress and her blond curls in a slight disarray, Caroline feels inadequate.

"Elena," Caroline replies icily, with a nod of acknowledgement. To Caroline's pride, Elena flinches.

"Oh, Stefan!" Elena is bounding forward again to pull Stefan into a quick hug. "How have you been?"

"I'm great. What about you, Lena? Do your moms know you're back?" Stefan asks with a smile.

"I think so. Kat said she'd tell Jeremy. Did you hear that Tatia's been nominated for a Golden Globe? Jenna's so proud." Elena's smile, so bright and happy for her older sister, causes Caroline's head to spin.

Elena Marie Gilbert, oh so perfect. Despite her unsavory background, Elena is adored by the Upper East Side. Never mind that Elena lives with and has been raised by her aunt and uncle, adoptive parents Grayson and Miranda; never mind that her birth was the result of Grayson's younger brother John knocking up teenaged model Isobel Flemming when they were nineteen. Never mind that John skipped town and Isobel will never win Birth Mother of the Year, nothing has ever gotten in Elena's way. She has the perfect support of siblings, eldest sculptor Amara who lives in Europe with her husband Silas, model and actress Tatia who is also in Europe, her socialite sister Katherine, her younger brother Jeremy, and her cool aunt Jenna.

Everyone falls at the feet of Elena Gilbert: boys, other girls, parents, college representatives, teachers. Since Caroline has been six and friends with Elena, she has remained in Elena's shadow.

"Oh, how wonderful," Caroline responds dryly, mind wandering. "I think I hear my mother calling. Goodbye, Elena. Stefan." She turns to her boyfriend and kisses him for longer than is really polite but really only wants to make Elena uncomfortable. Releasing Stefan, she murmurs into his ear, "We'll continue this later."

Strolling off, Caroline pretends to not have notice Elena's small frown.

…

For three weeks, Elena and Caroline dance around each other. Every time Elena attempts to approach Caroline, she is met with terse silence and the equivalent of a brick wall.

Finally, the tension boils over when Stefan chooses to reveal that the reason Elena left town was because Caroline's former best friend and beloved boyfriend slept together at the Lockwood wedding last spring.

"I know I made a mistake," Elena says, staring up at Caroline with those big beseeching doe eyes, the ones that prompt everyone to forgive her. "And I couldn't bear it; I felt so guilty. But, now, I'm back so that we can fix things."

"Fix things?" Caroline asks with calm, deadly fury.

"I want us to go back to the way we used to be, Caroline, us being best friends," Elena pleads.

"Things will never, can never go back to the way they used to be," the blonde replies, eyes hardening.

"Don't you think you're being a little dramatic, Care?" Stefan interjects suddenly. "Elena's trying to apologize." He gazes at the brunette with soft eyes and a slight smile, the way he hasn't even glance at Caroline in in over half a year.

Caroline feels the anger grow, burning painfully and deeply in her chest, the only emotion more powerful than the pitiful twinges of her broken, aching heart. "Dramatic?" she nearly-growls. "You slept with my best friend who I've known since I was six, who was practically _my sister_ , and then had the gall to lie about it to my face for more than half a year." Her voice lightens, becoming more vulnerable. "We'd dated since we were twelve, Stefan. You were the first love of my life. We promised each other our virginity." The toxic fury returns to her tone. "Then you went and slept with Elena Gilbert. The girl can have anyone, _anyone_ , she wants, and she chooses you."

"Caroline…" Stefan says warningly, his tone growing harsh.

"No!" she cries. "Fuck you, Stefan Salvatore! You're a lying, deceptive son of a bitch. You and Elena deserve each other." With the final word, Caroline snatches her purse up and storms into the hallway.

"Caroline." Elena grabs her sleeve, latching on desperately.

Caroline turns around, and the brunette is taken aback by the sheer lack of emotion in the blonde's eyes.

"Caroline," Elena repeats more loudly. "What happened to you?" she asks judgmentally. "You've changed."

"I've changed." Caroline laughs hollowly. " _I've_ changed? _You've_ changed, Elena Gilbert. What happened to the sweet, little girl who surprised me with a limited-edition American Girl doll the birthday my parents announced their fourth miscarriage? What happened to the thirteen-year-old Elena who pulled my hair back when we got sloppy drunk for the first time and spent the morning puking? I spent years in your shadow; I watched you change. You became an attention-seeking homewrecker, the sixteen-year-old whore who created scandals, partying past dawn on school nights."

"You'd clearly know," Elena says curtly. "I've heard your reputation. The stone-cold bitch who rules our private school with an iron fist. The neurotic queen bee who's really just an insecure little girl upset that her _daddy's run off with another man_. I wonder if your subjects would like to hear more."

Caroline frowns, a slight glimmer of heartbreak visible in her cerulean eyes. "I'm glad to see the real you, Elena," she retorts harshly. "You know what else happened when my dad moved away with his boyfriend? My mom was diagnosed with cancer. Six months left. She's not going to survive."

The harshness in Elena's expression dissipates, leaving only concern and guilt. "Caroline, I didn't know…"

"Of course, you didn't know." Caroline's voice cracks. "You were gone; you were gone the entire time. You were my best friend, I loved you, and you were gone the time I needed you." She is sobbing, tears streaming down her face in wet trails, chest heaving pathetically. "I could have gotten over you and Stefan; where were you? I didn't know what was going on anymore."

"Caroline."

The brunette is sniffling a little. "Caroline, wait."

She reaches for the blonde, but Caroline has already disappeared.

…

She tosses back drink after drink until the oaky flavor of her bourbon blends together with the bland taste of the water she drinks in between. Her vision is starting to get slightly blurry around the corners, but she can still think quite clearly for the amount of alcohol she's had.

But, maybe, another drink, less diluted this time, will bring on the fuzziness she so _craves_ _ **.**_

Because, that's the only way to avoid thinking about what happened today.

"Rough day?" comes a smoky voice, accented and rich like the bourbon Caroline had been able to taste the first couple glasses back.

"Fuck off, Mikaelson," Caroline practically growls. "I know you've read Gossip Girl."

"Yes, I have, love." Klaus Mikaelson takes a seat next to her, still dressed dapperly in his suit from the party. "And I do not understand everyone's obsession with Elena Gilbert. She has three sisters who practically are doppelgangers of her."

"At least, someone thinks that," Caroline mutters angrily.

His eyes light up mischievously as he summons the bartender over for a drink.

"Stefan is a bit thick. I can't defend my best mate when he traded _you_ in for a copy." Klaus' heavily-lidded gaze travels over Caroline's body as he smirks devilishly.

"Can it, Klaus; we all know you sleep with anything that moves. We've heard about your escapades with the Castles." She sighs distractedly. "Sleeping with the wife _and_ the husband? Not classy."

"Aurora and Lucien were well-worth it. Besides, I made them realize how much they truly disliked each other and their marriage." Scooting closer on his barstool, he tugs at a blond curl, and Caroline shivers. "And I've know you've done some unsavory things, too, Forbes. Recall sophomore year."

"You said that you'd never mention that again," she hisses.

Klaus shrugs. "You seduced a police officer to get Elena out of jail. We've all done things we're not proud of. I have to be proud of helping the Castles' marriage."

There is a buzz, and Klaus fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it to find a new Gossip Girl post.

It's a picture of Stefan and Elena gazing adoringly into each other's eyes, and Caroline wants to cry.

The picture is captioned: _Is E. getting her star-crossed love or is she just C.'s wicked witch_?

Caroline grabs the bottle that the bartender has just brought Klaus and holds it to her lips, gulping down sip after sip of pure bourbon.

"Slow, sweetheart. A hangover at Sunday brunch will be a killer," Klaus says.

"Fuck off."

"Everyone knows, Forbes, that you are the better choice over Gilbert," Klaus tells her honestly.

Taken aback, Caroline glances quickly at Klaus.

The emotion in his eyes seems genuine.

Five hours ago, Caroline had zipped herself up into a backless gown that her mother had designed, wearing it above her best lingerie, determined to finally have her night with Stefan.

While that never happened, no need for Caroline not to get laid, right?

Besides, Klaus is easy on the eyes and Stefan's best friend. It's only fitting that Salvatore gets a taste of his own medicine.

"Wanna get out of here, Mikaelson?" Caroline asks sultrily.

"Thought you'd never ask." He grins at her, reaching to grab an unopened bourbon bottle from behind the bar before following her to his limo.

…

 _Well, well, well. Looks like Princess C.'s night won't end in disaster. Has C. found her new prince? K. does have a lot of notches on his bedpost. Like business mogul father Mikael Mikaelson, like son?_

 _Could this be the start of something beautiful, or is it the beginning of the end?_

 _You know you love me._

 _XOXO,_

 _Gossip Girl_

XXX

 **Or:**

 **Themselves**

" _Are you to kill me?"_

" _On your birthday? Do you really think so low of me?"_

" _Yes."_

* * *

Read and Review.


	12. San Fran Blues

**harmless bit of fluff.**

* * *

It was not her worst birthday ever, no, that honor went to her tenth birthday when her parents decided to announce their divorce, but it cut a close second.

Caroline turned to complain to the ever-so perfect bane of her existence, Klaus Mikaelson, but he was no longer next to her.

"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed and darted from the alley they had been sequestered in and onto the busy San Franciscan sidewalk, straight into a busy stream of traffic.

After shoving past the crowd and receiving many glares from pedestrians with strange white cords dangling from their ears or slim and sleek black boxes in their hands, Caroline finally reached the front and stood in right at the edge of the pavement. Before her, the strange carriage-like machines that Muggles called cars zoomed past each other on the road.

Panickily, Caroline allowed her gaze to wander up and down the street, craning her head to search through the crowd on the other side of the street. Her heart beat at the speed of a Bludger hit by a beater, and she bit her lip nervously.

 _Where was Klaus? Had he left her?_

Although Klaus and Caroline did not exactly get along, Caroline doubted that he was enough of a bastard to leave a fellow witch in a Muggle city behind when they both knew nobody and nothing about the Muggles.

Caroline hated this.

She hated Klaus, she hated bloody San Francisco and its blistering cold winds and foggy skies, and she hated herself for agreeing to accompany her father and the British delegation to the American Ministry of Magic's headquarters on the California coast.

Tugging her coat and scarf closer to her body, Caroline whimpered uneasily at both the frigid coldness and being in completely unfamiliar surroundings. She reached for her wand, fully prepared to summon a Patronus to send to Klaus in front of all these Muggles.

Her wand was in her hand when a familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, Forbes?!"

Klaus was next to her suddenly, stuffing her wand back into her coat. Looking around suspiciously, he hissed closely into her ear, "We can't use magic outside of Hogwarts or in front of Muggles. We could risk being expelled."

Irritation burned in Caroline's chest, and she snapped angrily at him, "Shut up, you asshole! You're the one who left me all alone in this godforsaken city! How are we supposed to get back to the Ministry?"

He growled in frustration, rolling his eyes. "I didn't leave you! Are all Gryffindors this thick-headed? I told you that I was going to find a map; I assumed you heard me."

For the first time, Caroline noticed the rolled-up map in his hand, partially hidden by his leg. "Well, I didn't hear you!" she cried, nearly throwing her hands above her head emotionally.

"Whoa!" Klaus said, voice suddenly gentle and hands placed in front of him placatingly. "Are you okay, Forbes? You're crying."

"I am?" she asked in stunned disbelief.

She was. She had thought the sharp prickling in her eyes were just a response to the bitter winds blowing in her face, but fat tears were falling freely down her face.

"Oh, god." Caroline sniffed in confirmation. "This is so embarrassing. I'm actually crying in front of you."

"What's wrong, Forbes?" Klaus asked, concern evident in his stormy eyes.

She began to sob. "Everything's just getting to me today. It's my birthday, and we're stuck in a random city in this stupid country, and we're lost, because you decided to walk the wrong way on our way back to the hotel, and I fucking hate this." Embarrassingly enough, her sobs turned into full-blown blubbering as the tears blurred her vision.

"Here." He awkwardly offered his arms, and despite herself, Caroline launched forward into his chest and allowed him to wrap her him in a hug.

"You're warm," Caroline observed quietly, chest heaving with the force of her sobs.

"I know."

"It's is almost the worst birthday ever," she declared childishly.

"It's not?" Klaus asked with curiosity.

"No, that honor goes to my dad, the Head of the Department of Magical Creatures, deciding that he wanted to divorce my mom and date his secretary Steven on the day I turned ten."

Beneath her hand, Caroline felt Klaus wince. His chest rumbled as he spoke. "My worst birthday was the one I spent in St. Mungo's, because my idiot brother Kol accidentally got me a cursed goblet. It made me grow a tail."

She chuckled lightly, wiping the dampness from her face with her scarf now that her tears had subsided. "I remember that. You walked with a limp for days."

"Yeah, not a fun experience." Klaus pulls slightly away from Caroline and gets a good look at her face. "Now that you aren't crying anymore, I may know somewhere we can go. I saw it when I went looking for the map."

After allowing Klaus to drag her and walk a few blocks, Caroline finally was comfortable and warm settled on a wooden chair in the Ghirardelli Café at the Ghirardelli Square, enjoying the rich creamy goodness of her hot chocolate.

"This city actually has something good to it," she moaned delightfully.

"You don't say," Klaus replied amusedly, but he too has luxuriating in the warmth of his own hot chocolate. "Bloody hell, this is almost as good as the hot chocolate in Three Broomsticks."

"The Three Broomsticks makes hot chocolate?"

"You have to ask personally, and they'll make it for you. I know Rosmerta; I can take you for a drink sometime."

Caroline gave him a sly look. "Is this your subtle way of asking me out, Klaus Mikaelson?"

"Is this your way of agreeing?" Klaus flirted back, scooting his chair closer to Caroline's.

"I dunno; maybe I'll actually take you up on your offer." Caroline leaned closer, her face almost touching Klaus', but, when he was distracted by the proximity of her lips, her hand reached behind him and latched onto his mug of hot chocolate. She yanked her head back and drained the remaining liquid in his mug as quickly as she could. Finally setting down the mug, she offered Klaus a smug smile. "Or, maybe I'll just steal your hot chocolate."

Klaus glared at her in anger, but he was too amused at her childish antics for the emotion to be true. "Betrayal!" he exclaimed dramatically. "This is what I receive for being chivalrous."

"You've never been chivalrous in your life, Mikaelson." Caroline snorted into the lip of her mug.

Laughing, Klaus retaliated by hooking a foot around the leg of Caroline's chair and jerking it closer do that her drink spilled on the counter.

"Damnit! Now, go buy me another one!" she demanded petulantly, eyes still sparkling.

Though he still wore laughter on his face, Klaus obediently rose to her feet and strolled towards the counter.

As she watched him go, Caroline realized that this birthday was actually not as bad as she originally thought it to be.

* * *

 **comment if you enjoyed.**


	13. Vibrant Violet Vixen

"Kol!" came Klaus's enraged roar, echoing loudly through the empty halls of the Mikaelson Manor. The man himself came into view only a few moments later. He was dressed in his usual dark Henley and dark jeans, but what was truly remarkable was vibrant violet hair color he was currently sporting, product of a long-lasting hair dye.

The dye was courtesy of Caroline, but the scheming was Kol's part.

They had been locked in a hardcore prank war for weeks now, grating on all the Mikaelsons' nerves but especially Klaus's. Now, Caroline had, attempting to out-prank Kol, set the younger Mikaelson up to take the fall for the blonde's mischief.

"Kol!" Klaus cried again, causing the walls of the front hall to reverberate. A delicate vase from the Renaissance age slipped from its side table, shattering into millions of shards against the hard marble of the floor.

"Stop screaming, brother," Kol replied, flashing in front of Klaus and leaving the front door wide open. "We can all hear you."

"Kol," his brother growled. "What did you do to my shampoo?"

Kol's eyes traveled up, up, up to the brightly-colored hair of his brother. "Nothing." He smirked convincingly.

"What did you do?" Klaus repeated with more emphasis, lunging forward swiftly at his brother.

"I swear, Nik." Kol stepped back and held his hands before him in universal surrender. "I did nothing. You can ask that blond vixen of yours. Caroline's the culprit, not me."

Despite his trickster spirit, Kol was being honest here.

Klaus scowled at him, and Kol's smirk widened.

"Ciao, brother," Kol said, smiling like a creepy Cheshire cat. He blurred past Klaus, heading out the back door of the Manor.

"Caroline?" Klaus grumbled.

There was a blurry streak of blond and floral print as Caroline attempted to escape to the front door, but she was no match for Klaus's hybrid reflexes as he grabbed her slender wrist and tugged her into his embrace.

Her previous momentum caused them to go crashing into the wall, and Caroline used the distraction to try and slip away from Klaus, but he only tightened his grip.

"Did you switch my shampoo with hair dye?" Klaus demanded grumpily.

"So, what if I did?" Caroline leveled the hybrid with an even cerulean stare. "You can't do anything about it now."

His temperament shifted to amusement as a daring grin split his frown. "I can't do anything about it?" he repeated, challenged. Klaus leaned in, pressing his tempting mouth to Caroline's fair skin. He lay short kisses there, lip wandering further down to the neckline of her dress, sucking purple-pretty bruises wherever his mouth travelled.

Caroline sighed breathily, eyes fluttering shut, but they snapped open again when Klaus bit her skin brutally with his fangs, drawing blood. She hissed.

"Didn't like that, did you?" Klaus asked with mirth in his voice.

"Just get your mouth back," Caroline ordered, irritated, attempting to shove his face back to her neck.

"No," Klaus replied. "I don't think I will."

Instead, he heaved a squealing Caroline above his shoulder and sped off in the direction of their bedroom.


	14. Handcuffs

**Based off this prompt:**

 **Klaroline + handcuffs + arranged marriage xx**

* * *

"Mrs. Mikaelson? Mr. Mikaelson expects you downstairs for dinner," the maid peeking her head through the bedroom door informs Caroline.

"Thanks, Mia."

Caroline Forbes-Mikaelson waits for the maid to exit before sighing, placing her book face-down on the nightstand beside her straight-backed armchair.

"What do you fucking want _now_ , Klaus?" Caroline murmurs in irritation.

At the age of twenty-seven, while most adults are establishing themselves as working professionals and climbing company hierarchies, Caroline is married, has been married for about six months, to the heir of one of the richest families in the country.

It is only semi her fault, mostly her fathers.

 _Fine_. It's completely her fault.

See, at eighteen, a fresh high school graduate, Caroline had been ambitious, determined, her only focus on forming her own successful event planning firm. She attended Harvard, received many prestigious internships, and graduated _summa cum laude_.

It didn't hurt that her father was almost as rich as the Mikaelsons, but most of her achievements had been through her own merit.

The point is, it took Caroline seven years from high school for her business to become independent and successful, to flourish. But those seven years also damaged her personal life. Both her relationships with Stefan Salvatore and Tyler Lockwood failed, and she almost lost Stefan as her best friend. Elena and Bonnie were the only of her friends besides Tyler and Stefan to stick by her through it all.

Finally, at twenty-five, it appeared that Caroline wasn't going to find love as she once believed she would. Hence, a bit out of desperation, she agreed to marry Bill Forbes's business partner's son.

But, she didn't anticipate _just_ how infuriating Niklaus Mikaelson would be.

With a grumble, Caroline slides from her chair and grabs her phone before moving to go downstairs.

"Ah, look who decided to finally grace me with her company," Klaus crows as she enters the dining room, his elegant hands moving swiftly over a pair of silver handcuffs.

Klaus is an FBI agent, just as driven and ambitious as Caroline. He's five years older than her, and, just last year, he was made a Special Agent of the New York White Collar division.

"I almost didn't," she snipes back. "The thought of spending another few hours with you was tortuous."

He smirks at her, and Caroline pretends that it doesn't make some part of her melt.

They cycle through the three courses of the dinner, each draining at least two glasses of wine, and Caroline finally places her spoon down when she has polished off the last of her chocolate soufflé.

She is pleasantly buzzed, her eyes a little heavy, but still sober enough to keep a tight grip on her tongue.

Klaus is evidently in the same state, judging from the hazy quality in his storm cloud eyes.

Caroline stands, content to return to her comfy armchair and riveting book, and only stumbles a little bit when she moves towards the exit.

Just as she passes Klaus's chair, he reaches out with lightning-quick reflexes and hook his handcuffs around one of her wrists and then one of his and then locks them together.

"What the _fuck_?" Caroline manages to cry in her bewilderment.

Klaus rises, and his face comes awfully close to hers. "I saw you take those guides on lock-picking from my library," he croons, the musky feel of his alcohol-scented breath washing over her. It mixes in with his natural citrusy smell, not entirely disgusting, and Caroline shivers. "Show me what you learned," Klaus insists with his natural charisma.

"I," Caroline shoots back, "didn't learn anything. I haven't even touched the books yet."

Klaus chuckles. "Well, isn't that a shame?" He uses his free hand to pat down his pockets causally, which turns into a more frantic motion when he realizes that what he is searching for is not there. His eyes widen. "Oh, shit."

"What?" she groans in irritation. "Unlock us."

"I can't, sweetheart. I don't have the key; I left it at the office," Klaus says in realization.

Caroline wants to bang her head against something. This is just her rotten luck, isn't it? "Use your lock picks. I know you have those."

"No," he grinds out. "I gave them to Kol to use. I didn't ask why."

"You gotta be fucking kidding me? You're an FBI agent, and you have no way of getting us out of these handcuffs?"

Klaus shrugs helplessly.

Caroline swears under her breath.

Of all things, getting attached to her infuriating husband is the worst she can possibly imagine!

* * *

 **comment below if you enjoyed this...**


	15. The Louvre

**Spy!AU+Rival Assassins!AU**

* * *

She's standing on the rooftop of the Louvre, surveying and testing the security for her next score, when there's the slightest scuff of a boot against stone behind her.

It could have been anything, the brush of a pigeon's wings against the building or a noise that drifts up from the Parisian cityscape, but Vicki's senses, honed by two years on the run from nearly every major federal government in the world, know better. She remains poised on her toes, body stiff in its fight-or-flight response, prepared to disable her visitor in a mere matter of seconds.

Then she hears the tell-tale click of a gun as a bullet is pushed into its chamber and knows that she has no choice.

"I'd applaud you, whoever you are, for finding me," Vicki says nonchalantly, "but you must be a fucking idiot if you think that taking me in will go easy."

"Caroline Elizabeth Forbes," her visitor replies in a light, feminine voice. "I never imagined meeting you here of all places."

Vicki visibly stiffens, the unpleasant chill of disbelief spreading through her veins, because – _who could have connected master thief and assassin Victoria Donovan with FBI Special Agent Caroline Forbes, graduated top of her class at Quantico, presumed dead in 2014_.

"Who are you" _Caroline_ asks coolly, doing nothing to disguise the steel-edged threat in her tone, "and how did you find me?"

"I'm holstering my gun now," the woman responds, her words followed by a scrape of metal and fabric. "Then you can turn around, and we can have a nice face-to-face chat about what's going to happen now."

"And if I don't?" Caroline asks tensely.

The woman laughs as if Caroline told her a hilarious joke. "Look, I honestly mean you no harm. The gun was just a way to get your attention. If you care to leave, you can."

Maybe something in the woman's voice sounds genuine, or maybe Caroline is _just tired_ of running all the time, but she slowly turns around, careful of her footing on the slanted roof. "Who are you, and how did you find me?" she repeats a bit more gently.

The woman is shorter than Caroline, standing a little over five feet tall, but holds herself in a way that indicates power and authority. She is dark-skinned with a heart-shaped face, expressive jade eyes, and dark hair cut in a blunt attractive bob that makes her features seem more angular. She could pass for a civilian with her jeans, boots and sweater to protect her from Paris's autumn chill, if not for the unmistakable gun holstered at her left hip. "My name is Bonnie Bennett," the woman says smiling, "and I believe we have a mutual friend."

"Who?" Caroline demands, still a little guarded.

"He goes by Lorenzo nowadays but still thinks it to be a ridiculous name."

" _Enzo_ ," she breathes softly in relief.

The last time she had seen Lorenzo St. John, she had snuck into the penthouse he was staying in in Sa᷉o Paulo last summer. They'd stayed up all night drinking a bottle of $4,000 wine Caroline had filched from a local politician's house. _I'm going to be looking after you, Forbes_ , Enzo had promised her when she was sneaking out the window.

"Yes," Bennett says in confirmation. "When I told him I found you, he insisted I make contact."

"Why?" Caroline asks, eyes narrowing with bewilderment.

"Why?" Bennett repeats with confusion. "Well, I imagine Enzo's worried about you, that's why."

"No." Caroline shakes her head. "Why were you looking for me?"

"I work for an independent organization. Enzo's one of our contractors. We've been looking to recruit you since your Quantico graduation," Bennett admits. "Admittedly, I lost you after the failed mission in Bavaria in 2014 until—"

"I showed up in Mystic Falls six months later," Caroline surmises. She rakes a hand through her hair, wrenching some of it from its ponytail. "God, I _knew_ that visit was a mistake. Put me back on the radar."

Christmas 2014, the first time she had visited her mother's grave in years since Elizabeth Forbes had died just after Caroline's high school graduation. _Caroline's moment of weakness_.

Bennett frowns at her. "Only for people who were looking. And I definitely was."

Sighing, Caroline fixes Bennett with a steady stare. "Now what?"

Bennett shrugs. "I think you'll come into my organization in your own time but, first, it's time to prove my word. Enzo and I only want what's best for you, and right now, what we want is to keep you alive."

Now, Caroline laughs roughly. "From who? No one's been looking for me but you."

"Word on the street is," Bennett begins quietly, "that's someone's out for your blood. Got some past grudge."

"Who?" Caroline cocks her head to the side, listening intently.

"Dunno, but I'd be careful. Lay low for a while and if you ever want to come in, you know where to find Enzo," Bennett tells her.

"I'll keep that in mind," Caroline replies cautiously. She takes a step back, knowing that Bennett's eyes are on her, and then another until she reaches the edge of the roof. "You know, Mexico sounds good this time of year," she says casually, "if you want to find me again." Then, with enviable grace, Caroline backflips off the roof and disappears.

Bennett laughs warmly. "I'm not falling for that," she calls after Caroline.

/

Months later Caroline's in Spain, posing as the date for a German diplomat for a summer gala.

Bennett's offer has hovered in the back of her mind every day since their encounter, but Caroline is not one to fall prey for something that seems so tantalizing. There must be some catch, some condition, some demand from her that will damn her.

She has spent three years living half a life, living on the meager thrills of successful jobs and scores pulled off, tied to nothing and no one, the sickly weight of the guilt and sorrow always weighing her down.

Murderers don't get off that easily, not when they're living the price for slaughtering their family.

But she's here for a job, an offer that floated through her underground channels, $100,000 for the diplomat's head, so she ducks into the bathroom and readjusts the knife strapped to her inner thigh.

The gown she is wearing is eye-catching red and bold, a scrap of silk that covers her breasts and upper torso but has strategically-placed cutouts, high leg slits, and fragile strings that criss cross across her back to hold the gown together.

She's drawing a whole lotta stares from creepy men, and she rather gouge them out with the knifes scattered across her body than smile mysteriously and simper as she must until she can finally lure the diplomat into an unguarded corner and slit his throat.

Hell, maybe she'll hack off his head, work off this pent-up aggression.

She has spent long enough in the bathroom for it to begin to seem suspicious, so Caroline touches up her lipstick, fluffs her hair out, and click-clacks her way outside in strappy black heels.

" _Angelique_ ," the diplomat calls as he spots her, rattling off in rapid-fire German. " _Come meet Sr. Mendoza, the Spanish ambassador._

" _Sr. Mendoza, it's a pleasure to meet you. Your country is gorgeous_ ," Caroline says politely, surprising both the ambassador and diplomat by responding in fluent Spanish.

" _Thank you, Ms—_?" the ambassador asks.

" _Durand. Ms. Angelique Durand_ ," Caroline supplies with a brilliant smile.

" _French?_ " the ambassador questions, and Caroline nods. " _Your name is as beautiful as you are_ ," the ambassador continues in accented French.

Caroline giggles in response, but she actually wants to knee the infuriating man in the balls.

Her multilingual tongue and talent for theatre (Caroline had starred in every single play and musical that Mystic Falls High had ever done during her high school career) meant Caroline was a prime candidate in the FBI for undercover work, but Caroline is older, more jaded and getting slightly too impatient.

The diplomat proceeds to ask her to dance, and she gives him an embarrassed smile before allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor.

" _You know many languages_ , _dear Angelique_ ," the diplomat says in French. " _Have you travelled the world much_?"

Caroline releases a fluttery laugh. " _Not much. My native France, Germany, and now Spain. I have always wanted to go to America, but time never permitted_."

" _Of course,_ " the diplomat says. " _You should travel more when you can_. _But only with a male companion. The world is not safe for a beautiful girl like you_."

" _Maybe you can show me?_ " she asks, batting her eyelashes. She's sure she's overdoing it, but the diplomat only laughs, pleased.

She'll use her sharpest, slimmest knife to stab him a few times before she saws his head off.

He spins her before dipping her dramatically to the music, and, as they rejoin hands, she fights off the urge to stab his Italian-loafered foot with the edge of her heel.

When the music trills, he spins her again, and, as she returns to face the diplomat, her eyes catch a familiar face.

Stormy eyes. Dirty blond hair she had once carded her hands through. The jawline she had adored covered in stubble. Lips often turned up in a dirty smirk now carved into a wolfish smile. A dangerous expression for a dangerous man, power and the intent to hunt wrapped in a lean but muscled body and expensive tuxedo.

 _It's not possible_.

The blood drains from Caroline's body, and she stumbles, nearly falling flat on her face, but the diplomat catches, holds her steady, but she doesn't notice. Her heart is pounding like a drum, the beat echoing in her ears. Every bone is her body is frozen in place as a low buzz begins in the back of her mind.

 _It's not possible. Klaus is dead_.

She watched him die. She killed him after all.

She had sent them all into the building in Bavaria, sent everyone she had ever loved. Sweet-hearted Rebekah. Mischievous Kol. Loyal Stefan. Clever Freya. Stubborn Finn. Even haughty Elijah. She had allowed them to continue the mission, even when she had her suspicions. When the building went up in flames, she couldn't stop him from running inside to rescue his beloved Elijah.

And then the building exploded.

Caroline was the only survivor of the FBI's disastrous Bavaria mission; that's what she had always thought and lived by.

 _Was it possible that Klaus had survived somehow_?

But Caroline is a former high-ranking FBI agent, a thief, an assassin, a wanted criminal, hunted by Interpol, the FBI, the CIA, MI6, and other powerful agencies; she's here in Spain, at this gala, for a reason.

And, right now, that reason is gently stroking her bare upper arms, his hands inching dangerously close to the razor-sharp wire she's wearing around her neck like a necklace. She forcibly returns her attention to the diplomat.

" _Are you hurt_?" he asks.

" _No, I am fine. Thank you_ ," she replies with false gratitude and watches the diplomat preen.

They continue to dance, and Caroline searches for a glimpse of Klaus but finds no one,

She feels uneasy; something is off, and it is not the three-years late reappearance of her ex-boyfriend when she thought him dead.

She wants to get out of here, so she prompts the diplomat. " _Come, let us leave_. _I am tired. We can enjoy ourselves in your hotel room_." Caroline stares at him with barely-masked lust in her eyes, turning her scarlet lips up in an attractive pout.

Still, the diplomat doesn't budge. " _Maybe fresh air will wake you up_." In what Caroline deems a terrible move but cannot prevent without acting too suspiciously, he leads her out onto the terrace.

Caroline shivers in the frigid evening air.

" _Is this not pleasant?_ " the diplomat asks.

" _I am incredibly cold_ ," Caroline answers.

The diplomat appears disappointed. " _Come then. Let's return inside_." He turns around, facing indoors.

At that exact moment, a bullet strikes the back of his head, and it explodes in a spray of blood and brain matter.

Any closer and it would have struck Caroline.

Someone screams shrilly, and Caroline whirls just in time to watch a figure disappear from the opposing rooftop, a man clutching a sniper rifle.

God, she should have seen it coming, but three years had been enough for her to forget and underestimate Niklaus Mikaelson. She had made the mistake when they had first become partners, and it had led to their target taking a successful shot at her. She had learned her lesson then as she is relearning it now.

" _Phone the police_!" a young man shouts as he desperately searches for a pulse on the diplomat's body.

There is an annoying, artificial chirping sound by Caroline's foot, and she glances down to find that she is stepping on the diplomat's phone; it must have slipped from his pocket when he fell forward.

It chirps again, and she frowns, reaching down to pick it up. She rubs some droplets of blood off the screen, leaving behind a slight smudge, and unlocks it using the override code she had memorized.

 _Payback time, sweetheart_.

Klaus used to murmur _sweetheart_ into her ear as he fucked her. He called her sweetheart when they attended Freya and Keelin's wedding, and when he mentioned that the next wedding they attended would be their own.

Caroline laughs roughly.

 _Oh, how the tables have turned._

She grasps the cell phone even tighter as she begins to dial a familiar number, letting it ring until a familiar Brit picks up.

"Enzo, I need to talk to Bonnie Bennett. She was right. There is a price on my head."

* * *

 **comment if you enjoyed it...**


	16. Tête-à-tête

**Based on this prompt:**

 **Hi. So, a Klaroline prompt: Caroline was never turned in a vampire. Everything elese happened just like in canon. But Caroline was lied by all her friends and kept in the dark about the supernatural world. Until, Klaus begins to be intrigued by her. (I imagine it happening somewhere around graduation) So what can happen between the Big Bad Hybrid and the girl who was never enough?**

* * *

Caroline surveys the Mystic Grill as she enters it, heels click-clacking against the wooden floor; it hasn't changed even the slightest in the year-and-half since she was last here. There's the same, old log-cabin aesthetic and dim lighting that somehow made it the town's most popular high school hangout. Her opinion of the place and the town itself had diminished in the face of her life out in Georgia.

Still, some things were a comforting sight, especially that of Matt Donovan still stuck behind the bar.

He's still cleaning a glass with the rag usually tucked into his apron when Caroline drops down on one of the barstools directly in front of him, the hem of her sundress brushing against her bare calves.

"I think that glass's clean enough," Caroline says, her tone light and teasing.

"What?" Matt says, nearly fumbling and dropping the glass from his shock. "Care? Holy shit! It's really you!"

She smiles brightly at him, reaching over the bar to wrap him in a tight hug. Caroline relaxes into Matt's warmth, breathing in the musky scent of his sweat and cologne mixed in with the reek of alcohol.

Registering the edge of the bar that is beginning to dig into her stomach, she released Matt and sits back onto her stool. "Hey," she says. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Matt replies, still smiling. "Yesterday was graduation, but I still gotta work today. Does anyone know you're back in town yet?"

"Nah." Caroline traces the edge of the bar's peeling wood with her manicured fingers. "I just got in this morning. Mom picked me up from the airport. I thought that I'd pop in and surprise Bon and Elena. Are they coming here?"

"We're supposed to have lunch here. They'll be here soon. Can I get you anything until then, Care?"

"Just water," Caroline tells him, watching as Matt turns his back to her and grabs a clean glass.

At that moment, the stool next to Caroline's screeches against the floor as someone takes a seat beside her.

"One bourbon," the stranger orders in a refined English accent that Caroline would not expect in small-town Virginia.

Matt sets the glass of water in front of Caroline before turning to greet Caroline's neighbor with steely eyes and a sneer. "On it," he grits out, Caroline watching the exchange curiously.

She's never seen Matt stare at someone with such pure loathing.

"I don't think I've ever seen you around here," the stranger says causally to Caroline. "I would have remembered a face so stunning."

Caroline snorts. "Does that line actually work?"

The stranger stares at her, eyes slightly widened and stunned for a moment, before his lips slowly pursue into a smirk. "Let's just say that it was worth another shot to try it on you," he tells her charmingly. "But I really don't think I've seen you around town before."

"You're right," she replies. "I live out in Atlanta with my dad and step-father. I'm just visiting some old friends after their graduation. I'm Caroline. Caroline Forbes."

There's a moment of dawning realization in the stranger's stormy eyes. "Sherriff Forbes' daughter?"

She nods. "You know my mom?"

The stranger chuckles warmly. "My elder brother Elijah has dealt with her many times for his business since we moved here last year."

"You've a brother?" Caroline asks.

Is this Elijah anything as attractive as the stranger? He looks only a few years older than her, twenty-two or twenty-three, but is the hottest guy she's seen in a while.

Especially with those dimples and rumpled curls and his lithe, muscular build filling out that Henley quite nicely.

"How rude of me," the stranger says suddenly, and Caroline's gaze darts back up to meet his eyes. His smirk widens like he knows where Caroline's mind was wandering, her eyes having lingered on his strong, denim-clad thighs. "My name is Nik Mikaelson."

Matt chooses that moment to drop Nik's glass of bourbon onto the bar counter with excessive force, the alcohol sloshing side-to-side but somehow not spilling. He gives Caroline an endearing grin. "I'll be in the back. Lemme know, if you need anything." Matt ignores Nik as he disappears into the Grill's backroom.

"So," Nik begins causally. "How do you know Donovan?"

"Matt? I've known him since preschool; we're close friend. We dated for a few months before I moved to Georgia." Caroline winces, knowing that she's noticeably blushing. "I kinda dumped him over text."

It wasn't her proudest moment.

Nik laughs, a low, husky sound that causes heat to pool in the pit of her stomach. "He seems to have taken it well."

She's probably bright-red right now. "Yeah," she admits awkwardly. "Matt's always been a sweet guy."

Nik arches an eyebrow. "I suppose. We aren't exactly on friendly terms."

Caroline snorts. "I can see that. What happened?"

"Let's just say that Matthew is my sister Rebekah's newest paramour, and we don't quite see eye-to-eye on that," Nik tells her.

"So, you have a sister too, and all three of you moved here sometime while I was in Atlanta. What else did I miss?" Caroline sighs. "As much as I loved living with my dad and his husband, I still wish I hadn't moved."

"Why did you leave then?" Nik asks, settling closer, his eyes boring into hers as the distance between them diminishes

"I got into a bad car accident after Founder's Day two years ago. Had a brain injury and barely recovered. I spent two weeks in a coma and missed a big chunk of school while I was in physical therapy. My mom convinced me to spend the rest of the year with Dad, and I agreed. It was a bit hard beginning senior year without my best friends, but I guess it was what I needed." Caroline shrugs. Her hand shifts along the bar top, brushing against Nik's forearm.

"I can't imagine, Caroline," Nik comments sympathetically, the sentiment made even intimate by the way his accent caresses her name. "My brothers, Bekah, and I moved around many times when we were younger, but we were always mostly together."

"Brothers?" Caroline repeats in disbelief. "You have more siblings?"

"Several," he confirms. "It's … complicated. Elijah is the currently the oldest, and I am the middle child. And Bekah just graduated yesterday with Donovan."

Sensing his uneasiness, Caroline changes the topic. "So, Elijah is a businessman, and Rebekah just graduated like me. What do you do?"

Nik smiles mischievously. "I'm an artist." He holds up his right hand, the one not close to Caroline, as evidence, and she eyes the charcoal-stained fingers and faint streaks of paint.

"Oh," she replies. "What do you paint?"

"Scenes of nature, day-to-day life, artifacts, cities, beautiful women," he lists, his head shifting closer as Caroline unconsciously leans forward. "Anything that catches my eye." His left hand comes to rest on Caroline's, and he slowly strokes her wrist with his thumb as they gravitate towards each other.

"Care!" Elena cries as she enters the Grill and spots Caroline, breaking the spell of magnetic attraction between her and Nik.

Elena comes rushing to Caroline, Bonnie close on her heels. She grabs the blonde and wraps her in a tight hug, Bonnie smooshing Caroline from behind until she can't help but feel a little suffocated.

"Elena, I missed you," Caroline gasps out. "And, Bon, I missed you too. But you need to let me go. I need to breath. I'm only human."

At the mention of _human_ , Elena, who had been gripping Caroline with unnatural strength, abruptly lets her go and steps back. Caroline remains gripping Bonnie's arm gratefully.

"How have you been?" Bonnie asks, beaming.

"I'm good, Bon," Caroline says, feeling as if a great weight has been lifted from her chest now that she's been reunited with her best friends. "We've got so much to talk about. We gotta catch up."

"We were just heading up to the Salvatore Boarding House. Matt will be joining us too," Bonnie tells her. "Wanna come?"

"Why not?" Caroline says. "It'd be nice to meet Stefan again. How're you guys doing anyway, Elena?"

Elena's face falls a little bit, and she begins to look sheepish. "Stefan and I broke up."

Caroline almost gasps loudly. "What! But you two were epic! You were meant to last."

Elena just shrugs casually. "We fell out of love. I'm dating Damon now."

Now, Caroline does gasp. "Damon? Damon "I'll fuck every woman in Mystic Falls" Salvatore? Damon?"

Flushing, Elena snaps defensively, "He's not like that! You dated him."

"For like a week, Elena," Caroline states, "before I realized how fucking creepy he is."

She doesn't mention how she still wakes up, hyperventilating, in the middle of the night sometimes, her sheets soaked with sweat, expecting to find a dark figure in her bed.

Bonnie, the mediator, knows to intervene again. "Come on, Care. You just got home. We've got all summer to talk about this."

Caroline smiles gratefully. "Hold on. Lemme talk to someone before we leave." She turns around to face Nik, who, by now, has drained his glass of the bourbon. "It was nice meeting you, Nik. See you around town."

"I'll keep an eye out," he replies, flashing her a handsome smile that places his dimples on display and causes Caroline's knees to tremble slightly.

"Klaus," Elena hisses venomously as she comes to Caroline's side, finally noticing Nik. Behind Elena, Bonnie's eyes harden as her face takes on an expression of abhorrence.

"Who's Klaus?" Caroline asks cluelessly.

"I am, sweetheart," Nik states dignifiedly, something _dark_ flashing through his eyes before he winks charismatically at Caroline. "My name is Niklaus Mikaelson. Nik to people I care for, Klaus to people I don't."

"Okay…" Caroline trails off awkwardly as she observes her friends as they glare at Nik.

Or, is it Klaus?

"C'mon, Care," Bonnie says coldly. "We're getting late."

Before Caroline can protest, Bonnie is bundling her out of the Grill, leaving the blonde unable to hear Elena's exchange with Nik.

"Leave Caroline alone, Klaus," the doppelganger demands shrilly, lips pulled back into an ugly frown. "She doesn't know anything. She's just a useless human."

Klaus laughs cruelly. "Caroline Forbes is clearly so much more than that, and even you know it, love. I have no mind to leave her to be."

He doesn't allow Elena another word before he slips off his stool, drops a clump of bills onto the counter, and makes his way out of the Mystic Grill.

* * *

 **comment below if you enjoyed this... i also take requests and prompts. PM me here or drop a line in the comments...**


	17. it's now (or it's never)

Caroline twists open her favorite tube of burgundy lipstick and sets to work outlining her lips, studying her reflection in the screen of her computer.

"Hot date tonight, Forbes?" sleazy Damon Salvatore crows as he passes by her cubicle, likely on the way to the break room where he can take a swig of Alaric's poorly-hidden bourbon. "Remember, when he fails to give you a good time, you can always come to me."

"Fuck off, Salvatore," Caroline snaps without turning her head. "You wouldn't know how to show a girl a good time unless it crawled up your ass and died."

Bonnie guffaws loudly, the sound travelling through the thin wall of Caroline's cubicle. "Damn," she says. "Caroline got you good."

Damon scowls and slinks off the slimy weasel that he is, and, just as Caroline is about to turn to Bonnie, Klaus Mikaelson, her infuriating boss, sticks his head out his office door and calls, "Forbes. To my office. Now."

Bonnie grimaces. "I wonder what pissed him off now," she whispers.

Caroline caps her lipstick and slips it into her purse, assessing her lips in her screen one final time. "Oh, who knows," she tells Bonnie. "He never needs a reason to fight with me."

"Forbes," Klaus repeats, his tone just as loud and sharp as before.

"Coming!" Caroline cries back in a near-scream. She stretches to her feet and carefully maneuvers her way out of her tiny cubicle and to Klaus's office. She breathes in and out and smooths her pencil skirt down before raising her fist to knock.

After her first rap on the shut door, it jerks open, and Klaus silently beckons her inside. Caroline slowly pulls the door closed and locks it.

Turning around, she doesn't even stand a chance before Klaus crowds her against the wall, places his hands on her cheeks, gently tilts her head up, and slams his lips against hers.

She sees stars for a moment since his kisses are that intense, their lips moving furiously and passionately together, but her vision clears as the kiss begins to slow. To urge Klaus on, Caroline runs a hand through his neatly-gelled hair, yanking at his curls so that he moans into her mouth.

In retaliation, Klaus hoists her up and pins her against the wall, their mouths still locked together in a punishing kiss, allowing Caroline to wrap her shapely legs around his trim waist.

They continue for a few more minutes. Panting, gasping and sighing while still wrapped up in each other, until Klaus's sly hand sneaks underneath her blouse to pick at her bra strap.

"Not at work," Caroline reminds him breathlessly as she pulls away. "Not with all of my friends working just outside."

Klaus groans but steps away nonetheless. "I can't deal with this, sweetheart. Watching you work all-day and put Damon Salvatore in his place with your smart mouth. I can't…" he sighs, and Caroline smiles at this gorgeous man who she can render speechless.

This gorgeous man who she loves.

"I don't like sneaking around either," she tells him as she finger-combs her hair back into its bun. "We've done it for six months, and it hurts that I can't announce to the world you're my boyfriend. Or that I can't be your date to the monthly events. But you were the one who insisted that we keep our relationship a secret."

"I know," Klaus says, still breathing heavily. "I know. It's just, I don't know how to face Mother."

"Esther will have to get over it," Caroline responds, "but we don't know how she's going to react until we tell her."

Klaus remains silent for a moment before his lips purse into a slight smile. "This weekend is my mother's annual Valentine's brunch. She gathers all her society friends and, my siblings and their partners usually attend. Come with me; we can break the news to her then."

"Great," Caroline says brightly. "It'll interrupt our Valentine Day plans, but I guess it'll be worth it in the long run." She moves towards the door.

"Wait!" Klaus calls after her. "What plans?"

Caroline smirks at him and drops her voice to a sultry whisper. "Red wine, an open fire and that black, lace lingerie you love so much. Basically my plans of fucking you senseless," she explains, straightening her blouse out. She hears Klaus groan again as she slips out the door.

"What did Klaus want?" Bonnie asks her as she takes a seat at her desk again.

"Oh, just complaining about the jammed printer again," Caroline replies lightly as she smiles mischievously at her reflection in her computer screen.

/

"How do I look?" Caroline mutters out of the side of her mouth to Klaus as they walk up the winding path to the Mikaelson Mansion. She gestures to her floral shift dress, paired with nude heels, pale pink lipstick and her blond curls teased into gentle waves.

Klaus's tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip as his eyes feast on the delicate curve of her revealed collarbone. "You look perfect, sweetheart. As always."

She swats his arm playfully. "That's not what I meant. Do I look like someone your mother would approve for her darling son?" Her tone is bright and airy, but Klaus can see the glimmer of worry in her cerulean eyes.

He stops and turns to her, touching her softly on the bare shoulder. "Sweetheart," he begins gently, "Rebekah and Henrik adore you. Elijah and Freya consider you a little sister. Kol has learned not to mess with you. You even managed to charm Finn. If you cannot win over my mother, then she must be blind to your inherent goodness and heart."

She smiles lovingly at him, and his heart constricts for a moment while the soft warmth of happiness and affection washes over him.

Caroline reaches the front door and raises her fist to knock, but, just then, Klaus's eyes land on a familiar black Mercedes parked further down on the Mansion's enormous driveway. "Fuck," he spits, pushing down Caroline's hands and pulling her behind a column.

"What?" she asks in bewilderment. "I thought the usual practice when you want to enter a house is by knocking."

Klaus peeks out from behind the column to ensure that the car is actually there. "I saw my father Mikael's car. If he's here, my mother is going to be defensive and on edge. This is the worst possible time to introduce you to her."

"Klaus!" Caroline cries in frustration. "I'm going to have to meet your mother at some point!"

"And you will," Klaus assures her. "Just right now, we need another plan." He slips out his cell and shoots a quick text to Rebekah.

Just a few minutes later, Rebekah steps out the front door and hurries to them. "You chose the worst possible time to bring Caroline here, brother!" she tells them.

"That's what Klaus said. Come on, your father can't be _that_ bad."

Rebekah fixes Caroline with an unblinking stare. "When Kol brought his first boyfriend home, Mikael refused to meet him. He even conveniently forgot Kol's eighteen birthday two weeks later."

"Oh," Caroline says. "What about Freya and Keelin?"

"Freya's his favorite child, his first-born, but he keeps saying that Keelin is just a phase," Klaus explains, bristling.

"So, your dad's homophobic," Caroline states.

"And misogynistic," Rebekah adds. "He nearly threw a fit when I decided to go into business."

Sighing, Caroline drags a heavy hand over her face. "I now understand why you hate Mikael so much and why Esther's going to be in a terrible mood. But what are we supposed to do?" She gestures between herself and Klaus.

"You can pretend to be one of Bekah's friends," Klaus says, and Rebekah nods in agreement.

"I have plenty," she explains. "My parents aren't going to keep track of who I invite where. Just come on in with me, and Nik will join us in a few minutes." She extends her hand to Caroline.

"Alright." Caroline shrugs, shooting Klaus a quick glance as she follows Rebekah to the door.

/

Esther Mikaelson is an elegant woman with Klaus's familiar eyes but Rebekah's golden hair who only smiles dismissively when Rebekah brings Caroline to her and introduces her as "an old friend from college."

"She's not always like that," Rebekah apologizes as they head towards a table closer towards the large windows that overlook the gardens.

Caroline eyes the guests gathering in groups at the tables spread out over the expansive living room and sprawling onto the plush lawn outside. "It's fine. If there's anyone else who can relate to awkward, divorced parent reunions, it's me."

Rebekah smiles weakly. "I'm going to go get us drinks. I will definitely be needing several before this brunch is over."

Chuckling, Caroline takes a seat at the table, situating herself in the corner so that she can survey the entire room. She spots Klaus when he enters, having delayed his arrival by ten minutes, and watches him speak briefly to Esther who, judging from Klaus's expression, responds abrasively.

When he turns, his eyes land on Caroline, and his expression lightens as he takes a step towards his girlfriend, but, then, he's quickly swept into a conversation with several older women and disappears from Caroline's sight.

Caroline sighs and slumps back against the back of her wicker chair, waiting for Rebekah.

"Caroline!"

It's Freya, rapidly approaching the table.

"Hey, Freya." Caroline waves slightly, smiling at the older woman. "Where's Keelin?"

"She's over in London for a medical conference," Freya replies as she takes a seat besides Caroline. "Did Niklaus drag you here? I can't see him anywhere."

"He wanted to introduce me to Esther, but then we found out that Mikael was here," Caroline states slightly bitterly. "So, now, I'm hanging out with Rebekah. She's getting us drinks."

Freya winces. "Bringing any partner to meet the Mikaelson family is never a picnic."

"I've gathered that," Caroline says dryly, and Freya cracks a smile.

"I brought provisions!" Rebekah singsongs as she places two flutes of champagne and a tray of little pastries down on the table. "Oh, hello, Freya."

"Sister," Freya says in acknowledgement, standing to embrace Rebekah and press a kiss to her cheek.

"I think I'll have some of this," Caroline announces as she reaches for the champagne flute and drains it.

The alcohol does nothing for Caroline but fizzes sweetly on her tongue as it goes down, but she still shivers and sighs, scooting her chair closer to the table to allow Rebekah to take her seat.

/

Three hours pass quickly without even a glimpse of Klaus as Caroline chats with Rebekah and Freya. Before she knows it, guests are leaving until it's only the Mikaelsons and their partners and Caroline left.

"What now?" she asks Rebekah curiously.

"Mother likes to have lunch with us as a family," Rebekah explains, leading Caroline into the opulent dining room to take a seat between her and Klaus.

As Caroline settles into her chair, Klaus reaches over to clutch Caroline's hand and squeeze it gently, shooting her an apologetic glance.

"How are you?" she whispers, because Klaus isn't wearing his usual cocky smirk nor does his smile reach his eyes.

He rolls his shoulders slowly, keeping an eye at the empty head of the table. "I managed to mostly avoid Mikael so far. Looks like I won't be that lucky anymore."

Before Caroline can reply, Esther takes a seat, and a stocky man with sandy hair who Caroline presumes to be Mikael stalks into the dining room to sit across the table from Esther.

"Now, the real party starts," Rebekah mutters sarcastically from Caroline's left.

Waiters bring out trays, placing them accordingly on the dining table, and Klaus reaches to lift uncover the closest one to reveal a tureen of steaming stew, ladling some onto his own plate.

Lunch is more of a supper with somewhat traditional English dishes that the Mikaelsons had enjoyed back in London before they moved to America, Rebekah explains, along with some Norwegian family recipes.

It's when Esther sets her glass of wine down after taking a sip that she asks, "And, where do you work, Caroline?"

"Uh," Caroline says awkwardly. She didn't even know that Esther remembered meeting her.

Klaus cuts in quickly. "She works under me at the publishing company."

Esther hums, but, by now, all conversation at the table has quieted as attention focuses on Caroline. "And how did you meet Rebekah?"

"We both went to Whitmore," Caroline explains awkwardly.

Now, Mikael takes a keen interest in the conversation. "And, you had no plans of your own for this day, girl?" he asks roughly.

"Father," Freya chastises, but he ignores his elder daughter.

Caroline is flushing now. "These were my plans," she trails off.

"More like someone here was her plans," Kol mutters with a smirk.

"Kol," Elijah says warningly.

Mikael's eyes harden as he continues to stare at Caroline who shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"What about you, Niklaus?" Esther asks suddenly. "What happened to the girl you were dating? Camille?"

Klaus grits his teeth. "It's been over a year, Mother. We broke up. Different interests."

"Pity," Esther comments. "She was much more interesting than that girl Tatia. Such a promiscuous girl."

Elijah's nose flares, and he visibly bites his tongue as Katherine scowls. "Can we not talk about Tatia right now, Mother?" he asks with poorly-masked frustration.

"What," Mikael says. "Was dating a therapist too much for you, boy? Couldn't help fix your issues?" His words are directed at Klaus who bristles and leans forward.

Caroline sees red. "He wouldn't have those issues if you were a better father" she snaps angrily.

"Watch your tongue, girl," he warns threateningly. "Niklaus must be weak if girls like you must come to his defense."

"Mikael!" Esther says sharply. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave if you cannot behave civilly."

They break into silence as the waiters bring in desert, but it's only ten minutes later that Esther speaks again.

"What about your family, Caroline?" she asks.

"My mom was sheriff of the town where I grew up, but now she's retired. My dad lives in Georgia with his husband," Caroline explains. "I have no siblings."

"Well, that makes sense," Mikael growls. "When your father is like that, no wonder you haven't had a proper upbringing."

"Father!" Finn cries at the same time Esther slams her hand on the table and exclaims, "Mikael. I want you to leave!"

"Guess what, Father! I asked Keelin to marry me!" Freya announces angrily. "We won't be inviting you to the wedding at any rate." When Mikael opens his mouth to protest, she continues on, "And, no! Keelin is not a fucking phase. She is my wife-to-be!"

"Well, this is just bloody lovely. I think I'll be leaving," Klaus declares as he stands up. "Oh, and, by the way, Mikael, Caroline is my girlfriend. We've been dating for six months. I brought her here to meet Mother, but things never go as planned, do they."

He strides angrily out of the room, and, a few moments, the front door slams shut loudly.

Caroline levels an angry glare at Mikael. "Go to hell, you shit stain! Klaus is a better man than you will ever be." Then she shoves back her chair and rises, nodding at Esther. "It was lovely meeting you, Esther. I'm sorry that the occasion had to go this way."

Once the hurricane known as Caroline Forbes exits the dining room, and the door is heard closing with a bang, Kol chooses that moment to announce, "I'm dating both Davina and Lucien!"

/

Only when they return to their apartment do Klaus's hands stop shaking. He places a hasty kiss on her lips before locking himself in his studio, not emerging until evening with paint-splattered clothes and charcoal-smudged fingers.

"I'm sorry that brunch was so disastrous," he tells Caroline quietly as he takes a seat on the couch besides her.

"It's not your fault," Caroline insists, shifting so that Klaus can lay down and rest his head on her lap. She runs a gentle hand through his curls, feeling him relax until he falls asleep, then she reaches for her phone and calls a familiar number.

"Hey, Bon…I could use your help setting something up."

/

The apartment is dark when Klaus returns from a meeting the next day, lit only with candles leading the way to the bedroom door. Caroline can hear him stumbling through the dark until he reaches the door and pushes it open.

"Don't turn the light on," Caroline orders quietly from where she lies on the bed. She taps a button on a remote that she's clutching, and several electric candles, placed strategically around the bed, flicker to life to illuminate Caroline stretched seductively against the pillows.

Klaus's mouth goes dry. "Sweetheart…"

She's in a gorgeous lingerie set of black lace, her hair pinned up, and just as stunning as she looked yesterday in her floral dress.

"What's this?" he manages to ask. "It's not my birthday."

She shakes her head with a giggle. "Nope," she says as she sits up, "but it's Valentine's Day. After yesterday's events, we deserved something good, something just for us." Caroline extends a hand to him.

He smirks, shutting the door with his foot as he strips his shirt off and joins her on the bed.

Caroline straddles him, trailing kisses the length of his bare torso towards his sensitive neck, her lips finally reaching his earlobe, which she sucks gently into her mouth. "Happy Valentine's Day," she whispers into his ear.

"Happy Valentine's Day to you too, love," he replies before flipping them over and running his hand over Caroline's stomach then between her legs, her moans echoing in his ear.

* * *

 **comment below if you enjoyed this... i also take requests and prompts. PM me here or drop a line in the comments...**


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